


Reconstruction

by Aviantei



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Also lots of OCs, Essentially an attempt at a sequel, Gen, Planned way before Missing Kings was a thing, Slow Build, Still brings in S2 stuff tho
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2020-07-25 14:44:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 45,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20027533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aviantei/pseuds/Aviantei
Summary: It's hard when things are broken. It's even harder when they're destroyed beyond recognition. The only thing we can do is carry on and pick up the pieces, trying to rebuild what has been lost. While the result will never be the same, it's only by trying that we can see what we can make in its place. [Major use of OCs]





	1. Chapter One: Remains

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally posted on fanfiction.net on March 17, 2013 and is still ongoing. Essentially I wanted to write a sequel-like thing to [K], especially since we were in a period where we had all the side story manga but we didn't know if we were going to get a season two. Of course, now we do, but I'm still working on this project anyways to explore some of my OC ideas and headcanons.
> 
> This story will contain lots of OCs, original clan characters, and later integrate things from Missing Kings/Return of Kings as meshes well with the originally intended plot. It's also expected to be quite long. We'll see just how long when I get to finishing it up.
> 
> With all that in mind, I hope you enjoy.

**Reconstruction**

By: Aviantei

Chapter One

Remains

* * *

“Oh, so you wanna talk to HOMRA first?”

The young woman nodded, looking up at her guide. The man paused in consideration, muttering something akin to directions under his breath. Sitting beside her on the bench, a girl in her mid-teens sighed in irritation.

“Damn straight,” she said, pulling the cigarette hanging from her lips as she spoke. “They were our first lead anyway, so it’s only natural we start with them. Right, Nee-san?” The older of the two females nodded again. The lengths of chestnut locks bounced slightly as she did so. “Don’t they have some bar or something as their hideout?”

“That’s right, Hitomi-san,” the guide agreed. “Though I don’t think it would be good for your reputation if you went into a place like that at your age.”

Hitomi scoffed, standing up. Her middle finger was purposefully chosen to point at the piercings embedded in her nose. “Listen, shit for brains, does it _really_ look like I give a damn about my reputation?” The statement could have turned into a full-blown rant if it weren’t for the light impact that had made contact with the back of Hitomi’s head.

The chestnut haired woman had stood up. In her hands was a small cat plush with plastic eyes almost too big for its head. A paw was extended from where it had hit Hitomi, and the woman shook her head. Hitomi sighed before leaning down at the minimum angle to be considered a bow.

“Please take us there, Urumana-san,” she said. The words were forced, but they sounded polite enough. Beside Hitomi, the other woman bowed as well. Their guide, Urumana, looked at the mismatched pair before giving a short laugh.

“I should have known you two wouldn’t care about such things,” he commented. “I mean, when you came to me about your request, I knew you two weren’t normal.” Hitomi almost retorted to the unintentional insult, but her sister’s presence beside her stalled the action. “Yeah, HOMRA has a bar as their base. The group’s second in—oh, I guess he’s in charge now. Anyway, their leader runs the place, so if you’ve got questions to ask, it probably is the best place to start.”

Hitomi frowned as her sister gave a small smile. “If we ask questions will we even get any answers?” she asked. “Last I checked street gangs don’t like spilling their secrets.”

Urumana laughed again, this time only a chuckle. “Trust me, I think if you’re honest about your intentions, he’ll open right up,” he assured. “Although I think having you there might end in a fight, Hitomi-san. With your attitude and all. I could offer to go in and speak for you’d like.”

Hitomi felt the insult surge out of her throat, but stopped it when her sister stood in between her and their guide. The older female’s expression was serious from her profile as she gave an almost fierce shake of her head. Urumana looked surprised, and Hitomi’s own expression softened. “You wanna go do it, Nee-san?”

A nod of the head, no less determined than the movement that came before.

* * *

Kusanagi Izumo was often considered by the rest of HOMRA to be the second-in-command, the father figure of sorts. And in comparison to the aloof attitude held by their king, it was an accurate description at times. He cared for all the members of HOMRA, gave them orders in their king’s absence or steed, and allowed his precious bar to be used for their hideout, the bar that had given their group its name.

So it had only been the logical decision that he would be the one to take over after Suoh Mikoto’s death.

He still wasn’t used to it. Izumo hadn’t expected to do anything of the sort. But most of HOMRA had flocked back to the bar after that night, and still swung by out of habit. It had been Yata-chan who had offhandedly asked the bartender what HOMRA would be doing next, and everyone seemed to treat him as leader after that. Not King, but still a position of power nonetheless.

Izumo had accepted, mainly because HOMRA still needed someone to hold it together. Most of the members had nowhere else to go. It was a real foster home for wayward street punks and the like. But even three weeks wasn’t enough to make him be certain that this was alright.

HOMRA never had a plan. Mikoto had never intended to start it, so it never really had a goal. If anything, it was an organization that simply floated along on the whims of its King. And even Izumo, who seemed to be the closest to Mikoto, never truly knew what the King was thinking.

Thus it was impossible to take his place. Not that anyone truly expected him to. But Izumo most certainly had a hard time telling his boys that there wasn’t anything they immediately needed to take action on. HOMRA lacked its true leader and still lacked a plan, making leading it an almost impossible task.

But the hardest part was taking care of Anna.

The young girl had been hit by Mikoto’s death the hardest out of all of them. Izumo didn’t blame her, considering how attached to the hip she was to the king all the time. Especially since Mikoto had saved her. The girl was staying in the bar like always, but she had turned almost despondent after the red lights that had once been their bond together disappeared amongst that night’s air.

It hurt Izumo to see the girl like that. But there wasn’t anything he could really do to fix the problem. At least she still ate whenever meals were put out in front of her.

The bar’s doors opened, and the jingle of the bell made Izumo look up from his train of thought. A young woman walked in, her long chestnut hair almost reaching past her mid-calf length skirt. A minimal amount of lace adorned the edges of her clothing, except for a vest that fit tightly over her chest. She gave a short bow before sitting down at the bar. Up close, the few beads hooked into small strands of hair seemed discolored in the dim light.

“Welcome, _Mademoiselle_,” Izumo greeted, quickly slipping into his polite demeanor. “What can I get you today?”

She paused for a moment, then tapped her fingers against her throat before shaking her head with a sad smile. Izumo almost started—_Mute?_—before reaching under the bar for a menu. The woman then made a few shapes with her hands in the air.

“Sorry, I’m afraid I don’t understand sign language,” he apologized. The woman gave a short nod of understanding before placing a phone on the counter. Her thin hands picked up the menu as an all too familiar image was displayed on the screen.

“Are you here about the bounty?” Izumo warily asked. He contained a relieved sigh as the woman shook her head. “But you are here about the person in this video.” This time she nodded, pointing at something on the menu at the same time. Izumo took the time of preparation to contemplate the situation.

“Do you happen to know where he is?”

A shake of the head in the negative.

“But you’re looking for him?”

A nod.

“Does that mean you know him personally?”

The woman paused to think of how to answer. She frowned slightly, eyebrows furrowing. She raised a hand parallel to the bar and shook it side to side. _Yes and no._

Izumo didn’t know how to take that answer so he let it slide. “I hate to tell you but we don’t know where he is, either,” he admitted. That was another hard part. They had gone through all that trouble, their king was dead, and no one could say for certain that they had even dealt with the target they had been hunting all that time.

Totsuka’s murderer.

The woman seemed disappointed for a moment, before she looked up to him with wide hazel eyes. She started to sign for a second before remembering his lack of understanding. She instead reached for her phone—probably to type out the message—but Izumo put the drink she had ordered in her way. He didn’t need to see confirmation to know what she wanted to ask.

_Will you help me?_

Izumo didn’t know the answer to that. After all, looking for this boy before had resulted in the death of their King. But at the same time, HOMRA needed something to do, they needed answers. If helping this girl in a non-antagonistic search could solve both of those problems, it was probably a good idea right? And if not, HOMRA could always pull out of the deal.

“If you’re only interested in finding him, I think we can help,” Izumo answered. The woman gave him a questioning look from behind her upturned glass. “We were looking for this boy anyway, so it helps us, too. And if you happen to be the one that finds him, we’ll even give you the bounty.” That would be a tall order to fill, but Izumo would be willing to cross that bridge at a much later date.

The woman shook her head again, then gave a small bow of thanks. She tapped at her phone and tilted her head. “My contact information?” he asked. The phone was offered to him, the new contact screen at the ready. He took it in his hands, trading off a napkin and pen. “My name is Kusanagi Izumo. If you want to leave your name and number I can spread it around so HOMRA can contact you if necessary.”

The two fulfilled their necessary tasks, and Izumo took a crack at reading the kanji that was handed to him. “‘Hayatama Eri’? Is it alright if I call you Eri-chan?” He was met with a nod and the slightest of smiles forming at the corners of her mouth. “Well then let’s work hard together, Eri-chan,” Izumo said, offering his hand. “Would you mind letting me know as much as you can about this boy?”

Eri’s hand reached back for the pen, before her phone sounded a ringtone. The woman read the text on the screen, lips pursing together.

“Something come up?” Izumo asked. Eri quickly stood up and bowed a short apology. “No, it’s fine. You can send me a message later or drop by some other time. For a nice young lady like yourself to be so worked up, I can only guess it’s important.”

Eri gave Izumo a smile that seemed to be laughing at him, but he couldn’t say for sure before she turned around. However, the woman stopped quickly, as if she was avoiding something. Izumo leaned to the side to see if there was something in the way.

“Anna?”

The little girl was staring up at Eri, looking the most alive she had in the past few weeks. Others might of missed it, but Izumo could see the spark of interest in the little albino girl’s eyes. The angle prevented him from seeing Eri’s expression, but he was certain she had moved one thin finger up to her lips in a _hush_ motion.

“Come on, Anna, don’t be rude. Eri-chan has somewhere she needs to go,” Izumo chided. Almost reluctantly Anna stepped to the side. Eri disappeared soon after, the coat tails of her vest fluttering as she walked away. Izumo frowned slightly.

“What is it Anna-chan? Did you see something?” he asked. The little girl turned her eyes back to him, reverting back to the same blank expression she always had.

“No. I didn’t see anything.”

* * *

Hayatama Eri’s exit from the HOMRA bar was something that could be described as graceful yet ungraceful at the same time. Her movements were smooth enough, but something in her expression marred the otherwise tranquility of the moment. Only sparing a glance to check the traffic, she crossed the street to where Hitomi was waiting for her. With only faint traces of anger in her expression, Eri reclaimed the cat plush that was being offered to her.

“Did you learn anything, Nee-san?” Hitomi asked. Eri opened her mouth and let out a sigh that was only a breath of air.

“In terms of location, they’re just as clueless as we are.” The voice speaking was female, but Eri’s lips didn’t move. Instead, the words were emanating from the toy being lightly clenched in her hands. “But they want answers, too. They agreed to help, but I didn’t get the chance to share any information that could be overly useful.”

“That’s fine, though, right? We can’t have them knowing all our cards. And they certainly won’t let us know all of theirs. We’ve got to be careful.” Hitomi put her arm around Eri’s shoulder. “On a side note, we should find someplace to eat. I worked up quite the appetite while waiting for you.”

“Please don’t tell me that you got into another fight.” Eri narrowed her eyes at Hitomi, and the cat projected the slight irritation and concern in her voice with accuracy. “Especially not here. What will we do if you accidentally beat up someone who we need as an ally?”

Hitomi shrugged. “Do I look like I’ve been in a fight?” she said. “Nah, it just got really boring out here, and I started thinking about food.”

Eri stared down Hitomi, trying to find a trace of a lie in her words. She saw nothing. “Fine I suppose. By the way, Hitomi-chan, your roots are starting to come in. You should probably dye your hair again sometime soon.”

“Eh, really?” Hitomi glanced into a nearby shop window, frowning at the pale blond strands starting to contrast against the rest of her short black hair. “Fine, I’ll pick up some dye and we can take care of it later. But food comes first.”

Eri looked up and down the street before answering. “That’s perfectly fine, but how do you expect to get anywhere without Urumana-san?” The guide was nowhere to be seen. Hitomi flinched slightly. “Where is he anyway?”

“I don’t know that asshole ran off saying he had agreed to show someone else around,” Hitomi answered. “What kind of dumbass takes on a job like this and then takes on another escort job? Fuck that guy! If it weren’t for the fact that he’s the only one that took on our case I would’ve beaten the shit out of him for trying to run off on us!”

Eri let out another soundless sigh. “I suppose we’ll be able to find someplace to eat on our own. And I at least remember the way once we get to the subway,” she said. “But I’m proud of you for not starting a scene over it, Hitomi-chan. You’ve grown at least a little.”

“Nee-chan, I know that was meant to be a compliment, but that was almost cruel.”

“Ruyaki would have been proud of you, too,” Eri said softly. The smile dropped from Hitomi’s face in an instant.

The two fell into silence as they walked away from HOMRA.

* * *

“Nagana, report on the situation.”

“Yes Ma’am. There are the members of HOMRA, two women, a Strain, and the Black Dog, Yatogami Kuroh, whom have all been marked as potential targets. They were all noted to last be seen in this city, although the Strain and Yatogami haven’t been seen since the incident at Ashinaka Gakuen.”

“Well that’s troublesome. Why don’t we just ignore them?”

“Please try to take your job more seriously, Tarashi-kun.”

“Please try not to be such a hard-ass, Fukune-san.”

For the subordinates on the scene, watching their higher-ups argue like this was an exasperating but common occurrence.

Nagana, who often worked on missions with the two, realized long ago that intervention was necessary to get anything done. “Sir, ma’am, what exactly is the course of action we’ll be taking?” he asked. Tarashi and Fukune’s argument was dispersed before it even started.

Fukune cleared her throat. “Unlike Tarashi-kun’s unreasonable suggestion, we really should put the most effort into locating Yatogami. He is the one that is the one best suited to our goals. The members of HOMRA will take time. We’ll need to get close before even trying anything.”

“And if we track down the Black Dog, the Strain will follow,” Tarashi continued. Fukune seemed slightly annoyed by the interruption but didn’t disagree. “Even though it’s a pain, the Strain definitely is the second most useful out of that bunch. So we look for the Dog and send someone to play nice with the gangsters to get on their good side. What do we even know about the women, anyways?”

“They’re being tracked, although we don’t know much about their intentions other than they’re searching for someone,” Nagana reported. “We don’t even know who it is they’re looking for but it seems as if they’ve made contact with HOMRA. If we can determine their cause—”

“Then we can assist them to gain their favor. Damn, more work…”

“They may be easier to convince than HOMRA, though,” Fukune considered. “The person we send to HOMRA should be able to discover what they’re up to. They can also double as an envoy to get them on our side at the same time. That way we can spend minimal numbers on activities that don’t involve searching for Yatogami.”

“That’s right. You get on it, Fukune-san…” Tarashi said. Nagana watched as a vein popped in Fukune’s forehead.

“Tarashi-san, your sense of humor is really terrible,” the woman said, keeping a calm tone with only hints of malice mixing in. “As such, please refrain from attempting to make jokes during moments of business.”

“You’re mistaken, Fukune-san; I wasn’t joking.”

“Sir, ma’am, about that rumor,” Nagana interrupted again. Both of his superiors looked back to him. “The one concerning a member of SCEPTER4. What are your thoughts on it?”

“Too much effort to think about,” Tarashi commented, leaning back in his chair with a sigh.

“We would need more information before acting on it,” Fukune said more seriously. “And even then, it would be a difficult and dangerous risk. It’s definitely something we’ll have to wait on. Let it go for now. We can look into it after we solve our current problems.”

“Understood, Ma’am,” Nagana said. “Would you like to distribute assignments?”

Fukune shook her head. “You should know by now that isn’t my area of expertise. Leave that sort of thing to Tarashi-kun.”

At the sound of his name, Tarashi sat back up. The look on his face had switched from his usual lazy look only the tiniest amount. Nagana was certain he saw something dangerous in that change, but couldn’t say just what.

“Now… Which one of you hard workers is best suited to the job…?”


	2. Chapter Two: Remains II

**Reconstruction**

By: Aviantei

Chapter Two

Remains II

* * *

After a long walk that took far too much time than could be considered reasonable, the duo of Hitomi and Eri made its way into the main part of the city by pure luck. While Hitomi was content to simply wander until they found a suitable place to eat, Eri had no such patience and insisted they asked for directions. This job fell to Hitomi.

“But if it’s your idea to do it, why don’t you ask?”

“Because you know very well I don’t like speaking in front of others. It looks too suspicious.”

While Eri had considered different options before, she had never found a good way to use the plush in front of others without arousing attention. Carrying the toy around was simple enough to get away with, but making it talk in front of others was out of the question. She had almost used ventriloquism as an excuse, because it was close enough to the truth, but that was too easy to be exposed as a lie. It was better to play it safe and not speak at all.

Meaning that the less polite Hitomi was left to the job of asking for directions. There were a number of failed attempts on the younger girl’s part, but they were able to finally encounter someone who didn’t run off at Hitomi’s punk-esque looks or attitude. After that it was smooth sailing to a street that hosted a large number of restaurants to choose from.

“Man that was brutal…” Hitomi muttered under her breath. “Nee-san, do you gotta keep making me do things like that? Even when you’re mute you’re a better speaker than I am.” Eri glanced around the crowded street.

“You need to work on your social skills, Hitomi-chan,” she said. With this many people around, it would be difficult for anyone to even notice it was her talking. “It’s important in general and for what we’re doing. Ruyaki said he wished you would get along with people better…” Eri frowned, and sadness was evident in the voice coming from the cat.

Hitomi sighed and looked away. “Yeah, yeah, I know…” Her voice was aloof but her expression wasn’t. “I guess I just need to try more, don’t I? Everything that’s gone wrong has been because I didn’t try hard enough, right?”

“Hitomi, you know that’s not true.” Eri was frowning at her sister, a tiny glint of anger in her eyes. “No one is at fault here, especially not you.”

“Well if no one’s at fault, then what happened to Ruyaki? Are you telling me that it just happened for no reason? If that’s the case, then what are we even doing this for?!” Hitomi turned to Eri, demanding an explanation. A few people stopped in the street to look at them.

Not wanting to be found out Eri only reached out her cat’s paw to deliver a light hit to Hitomi’s face. She then lowered the plush to where she pushed it into the other girl’s stomach. Looking up at Hitomi with worried eyes, she willed her words to get through. _You were hungry, right?_

Hitomi looked down at the older girl and sighed. “Yeah, yeah,” she drawled, the tension draining from her shoulders. “I really don’t give a damn what we eat. Just pick wherever, Nee-chan.”

Eri looked around with a finger poised in the air. She was observing the crowd’s behavior almost as much as her restaurant options. When she was satisfied that they were no longer being looked at, Eri pointed to one of the many signs. Hitomi followed the finger’s guidance. “Ramen? Sure, that works. They might have private booths, too.”

Eri nodded, smiling. Hitomi had followed her train of thought perfectly. Having a booth to themselves would make discussing things easier. The duo walked towards the shop’s entrance, and Hitomi lifted up the curtain over the doorway.

A figure exited the building at the same time she was about to enter, and the two collided. Eri grabbed onto Hitomi’s shoulder to steady her. The other figure stumbled before running off down the street, shouting something that sounded like “Excuse me! Sorry!”

Hitomi growled. “Fucker!!” she cursed, even though the figure was already lost in the crowd. Eri tugged on her arm, and Hitomi sighed. “I know, I know, we need to relax. Some assholes just have no manners.” Flipping a middle finger in the direction her “assailant” had disappeared in, Hitomi shrugged and walked into the shop.

It was a small but standard place, with the menu above the counter. A few tables were along the opposite walls, with a single private section on the left-hand wall. Eri smiled at a reluctant Hitomi and gave her a light push towards the counter where the chef stood.

“Um, excuse me… is the private booth free?”

“Sure thing, onee-san,” the chef asked without looking up. “If you give me a minute to clean this up I can come back and take your order.” He gestured to the half-eaten remains of a ramen bowl sitting on the counter.

“That’s fine but we’ll just take two orders of shio ramen if that’ll save you the trouble.”

“Coming right up.”

Hitomi held in her sigh until she and Eri were seated and the booth’s door was securely shut. “I can’t keep doing this, Nee-san, I just can’t,” she complained, sinking back into the cushions. “People are impossible to talk to.”

Eri smoothed out her skirt before returning her hands to the cat plush sitting on the table. “That’s only true because you don’t try. If you talked to them more things would be a lot easier for you,” she said.

“That’s easy for you to say. You never have to talk to people. At least not properly.”

Eri frowned. “Just because I can’t speak to people doesn’t mean I can’t talk to them,” she countered. “You have to remember hardly anyone ever knows sign language. It’s very nerve wracking not even knowing if the person I’m trying to communicate with will understand me when I try to get what I’m feeling across. Trying to talk to Kusanagi-san was a nightmare.”

“Hey what do you think I made this for?” Hitomi asked, tapping the stuffed cat’s head with her knuckle. “I know you don’t like using it in front of others, but I think if you got over it, people wouldn’t care as much as you seem to think they would.”

“…I suppose. But I’ll need to be more comfortable with myself first.” Eri hugged the toy to her chest. “Though I am grateful that you made Mie-chan for me. He’s really helpful. But enough about our problems. We need to discuss the matter at hand.” The plush Mie-chan was returned to sitting on the table.

“Right-o.” Hitomi put her elbow on the table and rested her chin in her palm. “So this ‘Kusanagi-san,’ was he the leader Urumana mentioned?”

Mie-chan let out a short humming noise in Eri’s steed. “I honestly can’t say for sure,” Eri admitted. “If anything, he definitely seems like he’s high up enough to agree to help us. Though it kind of bothers me that it’s been a month since they released the bounty and they still have no idea where he is.”

Hitomi nodded. “That started to bother me when you said it, too. Despite being a bunch of street punks, HOMRA has it together better than you’d think. They should have had him by now. So what’s the fuckin’ deal?”

“I wonder… Maybe if we get close enough to them we’ll get them to tell us the whole story. All things considered, I really wouldn’t trust some random woman who says they’re out looking for someone who supposedly killed one of their members. Even the little girl in the bar caught on by just looking at me.” The tone coming from Mie-chan was solemn. Hitomi looked down at the table, drawing circles with her free index finger.

“There’s no way… he would really kill someone right…?” she asked quietly.

“Of course not!” Eri’s voice almost echoed in the small space. “No matter what… he’d never! There’s absolutely no way he could ever…” The anger in her expression dimmed down. If anything, she was now on the verge of tears. “_That’s_ why we’re doing this, Hitomi-chan. Because there’s absolutely no way. And we need to find the reason.”

Hitomi reached a hand out to place on Eri’s shoulder. “You’re right, Nee-san,” she said, halfway forcing the smile now on her face. “We can get through this, just me and you. We’ll find out the truth about all of this together. We’ll find Nii-san.”

* * *

If there had been a contest within HOMRA to see who was the most depressed by the loss of their king, Yata Misaki would have taken second place. While Anna had definitely taken his death the hardest, Misaki was close behind. Add on that he had been the one most affected by the death of Totsuka-san right before that, and the young man was nothing short of a mess.

Losing Totsuka had been hard enough on Misaki, particularly since the senior HOMRA member had died in his arms. Misaki still had nightmares about it and always woke up in a cold sweat as Totsuka-san’s thumb left a streak of blood on his cheek.

The dream had only gotten worse after the conclusion of the incident on the school island. Sometimes it was the same old dream, sometimes it was Mikoto dying in his arms in Totsuka’s place, and sometimes it was something he didn’t even want to describe nor could ever remember properly once he woke up.

Unlike Anna, though, Misaki had done his best to carry on as best as he could. As far as everyone else in HOMRA was concerned, the Yatagarasu was the same as always, looking for trouble and begging that they go out and do something. And while he knew better than to ask Kusanagi-san for any sort of work, he still tried, because otherwise he was probably going to fall apart.

One thing he had at least been keeping up with was eating. In the past three weeks he had steadily built up a repertoire of running around the city, looking for a glimpse of _something_ to do. And whenever that failed (which it always seemed to do), Misaki would find himself stopping in at the usual noodle shop to ease his hunger.

He started to eat while the bowl was still steaming. If it were anyone else then the inside of his mouth would have been burned. His aura negated the effect. He almost wished it didn’t.

It was getting to the point that the chef didn’t even have to ask for his order. How much longer would it be until Misaki walked in at the same time as always and his order was already waiting for him? How much longer until he stopped thinking about what else to do to pass the time? How much longer until he was as good as he was before Mikoto-san had found him, just some kid on the streets with nothing to do?

Not that it could ever be exactly the same as it was before.

Misaki formed a fist around his chopsticks, threatening to break the thin wood. _That_ was the last thing he needed to think about. Trying to dismiss the thought, Misaki resumed the activity of consuming his noodles without choking on them. Halfway through, his watch chimed for his attention.

“Mm? Thish ish Yata,” he answered, mouth full. Misaki swallowed before speaking again. “What do you need?”

_“Yata-chan, we’ve got work to do,”_ Kusanagi-san said on the other line. _“Everyone’s meeting up at HOMRA in the next hour or so. It’s important so don’t be late.”_

Misaki nearly cheered in excitement. He decided to save the shout for a later date. “You really mean it, Kusanagi-san?!” he asked. The chef gave him a sidelong look from inside the kitchen. Misaki lowered his voice. “So what’s the job? Is it something big? Where’d it come from?”

Kusanagi laughed on the other side of the line. _“Calm down, Yata-chan. I’ll explain everything when you get here. Would you mind letting some of them others know for me? I don’t have the time to call everyone.”_

Misaki stood up and started to dig in his pockets. “Sure thing, Kusanagi-san, I’ll get right on it!” After some struggle, the skateboarder pulled out the necessary yen from his pockets and tossed the coins on the counter. He made sure all his belongings were gathered before heading towards the door in a run. “Thanks for the food, Oji-san!”

It would have been a smooth jump onto his skateboard if someone hadn’t been walking into the store at the same time. Misaki stumbled, shouting an “Excuse me! Sorry!” over his shoulder. He would have given a more formal apology if he hadn’t been so focused.

There was work to do. Finally, after weeks of doing nothing, HOMRA was back in action. It didn’t matter what the job was, what they were doing, as long as it was something. For the first time in a while, Misaki grinned as he skated through the crowd. He really couldn’t contain his excitement any longer.

“_Alright! No blood! No bone! No ash!_”

His shout felt as if it had pierced the sky.

* * *

Urumana Nezuto was often considered by others to be an idiot. Even his closest friends could say that the only good thing about him was his sense of direction. It didn’t matter if he knew anything about the area he was in, he was able to find his way around to almost anywhere, or at least damn close. Which was why he could come into this city and play the role of an escort despite being there for less than two months.

It was really his only redeeming feature.

“Even so… how’d it end up like this?”

Despite their standing as lifetime residents, Hayatama Eri and Hitomi were utterly hopeless at navigation. He was unsure if that was because they truly lacked a sense of direction or just had no idea of how to get around in the more underground parts of town. In any event, Nezuto was certain they couldn’t afford to wander around the city without him. So the fact that they had left the area surrounding the HOMRA bar in the short amount of time he was gone was concerning.

“I do have their contact information, so I could call them,” he considered. “But if they left without trying to call me then that means they didn’t want my help. But Hitomi-chan admitted straight up that they needed me to get around. Are they willing to get themselves lost?”

Nezuto would have normally searched for them, but if they didn’t ask for his help, maybe it would be best if he didn’t interfere. Sure, they needed him, but having them irritated would only make a terrible experience of the job. And that was something he wasn’t willing to put up with.

His phone gave the sound for his email notification, and he pulled it out of his jacket pocket. While it wasn’t from either of the women he expected, it was from someone equally important to him at the moment. Nezuto smiled, and let his sense of direction take him where he needed to go. After a few minutes, he found himself leaning against the fire escape in an alleyway.

“Couldn’t you have picked a more subtle location?” Nezuto asked, looking up. “Honestly, this just screams ‘suspicious’. I expected better of someone with your reputation.” The figure sitting above him on the fire escape ignored the insult.

“You said you could help us,” it said, distaste lacing the words. “I haven’t seen too much of that happening. Just what exactly do you intend to do to actually keep your promise?” Nezuto only laughed softly.

“Easy, easy. I will help you in time. You can’t blame me for trying to finish up a way easier job on the side, especially if it pays well. If I recall, you’re the one who said you didn’t have the money to pay me. I’m really only helping you because you’ve forced me to. My other clients usually are prepared.”

The figure shifted enough to make the fire escape move. Nezuto just barely kept his balance. “You know we don’t have much of a choice,” the figure retorted.

“I know, I know.” Nezuto waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “But you haven’t been very specific. I understand you want me to help out with keeping your location and identity under wraps, but I think you two can handle that on your own. What exactly is it that you want of me?”

There was a moment of relative quiet, with only the noise from the main streets buzzing in the distance. “I would like to find someone, but that’s not something I think you can help us with. Aside from that, there’s certain information I would like to obtain.”

Nezuto frowned. “That’s not my area of expertise, sir. You should know that,” he said. “Normally I’d be willing to try something out for you, except you can’t afford it. I’m really pushing it as it is. Sorry, but you’ll have to do without that particular service.”

“I can pay.” The response was a bit too hasty for Nezuto to believe.

“You’re going to have to prove it,” he said seriously. “No exceptions. I can give you all the time you need to get the necessary funds. But I need hard proof, and I will need it soon if you want me to be effective. Can you do that for me?”

Silence fell again, and that was all the answer that Nezuto needed. The tone in his prospective client’s voice was just an additional factor. But he decided to give the other the benefit of the doubt. “Give me three days.”

“I suppose I can do that,” Nezuto allowed. “If there’s any time you can get that proof to me sooner, it would probably be in your best interest. Surely someone like you can understand that. Time is money, after all. And, well, you don’t have either of those really, so you can’t afford to waste either of them.”

The other person growled, almost too soft to be heard. Nezuto wondered if he was about to be attacked. That would be an interesting one to explain to the girls; how their guide had suddenly gotten mugged or some other similar lie. But nothing happened in that regard, and the escort remained unharmed.

“Understood,” was the terse reply. The fire escape rattled and the other person in the alleyway disappeared without a trace. Nezuto breathed a sigh of relief and looked up to the crack of sky above him.

“Am I… pushing myself too hard?” he asked no one in particular. A wry chuckle escaped his lips. “I guess not. But really what else am I supposed to do?” Nezuto walked towards the street, exiting the alleyway in the opposite direction he had entered. There was nothing pressing for him to do, but if there was somewhere he needed to be, he’d get there.

“But really, no more charity work. I’m making myself feel sick.”


	3. Chapter Three: Rejuvination

**Reconstruction**

By: Aviantei

Chapter Three

Rejuvenation

* * *

Before the designated hour was even up his bar was filled with HOMRA members, and Izumo knew there wasn’t any point left in waiting. Everyone was greatly excited, talking amongst themselves. He hadn’t really given out many details in contacting everyone, the proper words to say had escaped him. Usually, he would only have to convey Mikoto’s intentions and that was it. Coming up with his own objective was difficult.

_What would Mikoto say?_

The conclusion could only be “not much.”

Anna was the only member not at the same high, but then again she never really was. Once Eri had left the bar, the young girl had gone back to sitting in the same spot as always. Izumo couldn’t say for sure, but it seemed that, even though Anna wasn’t quite her old self yet, she was at least the tiniest bit away from the desolate state she had been in.

“Hey Kusanagi-san, are we gonna start soon?” Yata asked, grinning. The teenager was practically bouncing in excitement. Normally Izumo would have worried that Yata’s energy would have damaged the bar in some way, but it was the most alive the younger male had seemed in weeks. “I think everyone’s already here.”

Izumo let out a short chuckle to cover up his nervousness. It was now or never. _These people trust me enough to be a leader so…_ “Sure thing Yata-chan,” he said. For his next sentence, Izumo raised his voice. “Listen up everyone! The meeting will be starting shortly!”

There was a small flurry of movement to the tune of chairs scraping against the floor and conversations slowly being brought to a close. A few odd drinks were ordered and distributed quickly. In the end, Izumo had the entirety of HOMRA looking to him with expectant eyes.

“I’ve called you all here today because something important has come to my attention,” he started. “Today a young woman by the name of Hayatama Eri stopped by, asking for assistance. Eri-chan is mute, and had other business to attend to, so I wasn’t able to get as much information out of her as I would have liked. But reasons aside, she is looking for someone and has requested our help. I know you’re all familiar with the person in question.”

Izumo pulled his PDA out of his pocket, navigating through the menus until he found what he was looking for. When done, he placed the item on the counter, and the image of Totsuka’s murderer projected itself for all to see. Some of the members exchanged whispers, and Yata distinctively stiffened.

“I know this may come as a shock to some of you,” Izumo continued, “but I chose to agree with the request.” The whispers grew to louder mutterings. “Now, now, everyone, calm down. Let me explain myself first.”

“I bet you just agreed since she was pretty!” someone called out from the back. A light roll of laughter passed over the group without releasing much of the tension. Izumo sighed through a smile.

“While Eri-chan is most certainly pretty, that’s not the only reason I had to agree.” The bartender shifted his expression to be more serious. “We all know what happened three weeks ago. The main problem is that we really don’t _know_ what _happened_. Mikoto died by the Blue King’s sword. We weren’t told his body’s location, let alone any of the details.

“This had been bothering me on and off, but talking to Eri-chan made me really think about things. SCEPTER4 has made no effort to contact us whatsoever. Just because they seem to have stopped investigating doesn’t mean that this ‘Colorless King’ has been stopped. For all we know, SCEPTER4 may have him as a prisoner or he could still be on the loose. We don’t know for ourselves if the problem was ever even _solved_.”

Izumo could feel himself getting frustrated and took a breath to relax. HOMRA waited in pure silence, questions dancing in their eyes as they waited for him to continue. When he had spoken in the past for their king, it was never like this.

_Did they always look at you like this Mikoto? Is this what it felt like to be on the other side of this gaze?_

“I’m not Mikoto,” Izumo blurted without thinking. “I’m not certain that he’d agree. But I really do think that we deserve answers. I think that we should confirm the location of this boy for our own well-being. Mikoto wanted to find him, and so should we. As his vassals, we need to assure with our own hands that his goals were fulfilled.” He pursed his lips before cracking a smile. “And you all know me. I can’t stand leaving a pretty lady helpless.”

The atmosphere had changed, although Izumo couldn’t exactly say how. Part of him worried that he had said something that HOMRA didn’t want to hear. Even if he was uncomfortable with the job, he still wanted to do well. His poor actions only reflected badly on his king after all.

“I agree with Kusanagi-san,” Yata said. His head was hung low. The teenager swiped a hand across his face in a motion that everyone chose to pretend like they hadn’t seen. When he looked up, Yata’s eyes were filled with fire. “I don’t care about this girl or whatever, but I wanna make sure the bastard who killed Totsuka-san is really dead. I’ll kill him myself if I have to.”

Several HOMRA members spoke their agreement. Izumo intervened before things went too far.

“I don’t know if that will be necessary, everyone.” The statement made all heads turn. “I can’t say for certain, but I really don’t feel like Eri-chan wants him dead. She really wasn’t clear, but she knows who this guy is. If she needs to talk to him about something, we’ll have to honor that.”

Yata stood up at a speed that almost made the stool he was sitting on fall over. “Are you saying we have to let Totsuka-san’s killer go free?!” he shouted. His fist made contact with the bar counter. “Hell no! I refuse! There’s no way! If that’s what you’re saying Kusanagi-san then I—!”

“That’s not what I’m saying at all!” Yata balked at Izumo’s uncharacteristically loud tone. Izumo would need a smoke after this. “There’s no way I’d ever agree to something like that, either. Once we talk to Eri-chan again we can come to a proper agreement concerning our terms. If there’s something she wants, we need to get something out of it. Now please don’t abuse the bar, Yata-chan.”

Yata pulled his hand away from the countertop to pull his hat slightly over his eyes, muttering “Sorry…”

“Everyone, I know you all trust me enough to lead you, but I can’t go and make decisions like that on my own. If you’re all okay with picking up this search again, then I will get into contact with Eri-chan again to discuss specific terms. I won’t make any major agreements without satisfying as many of you as I can. If not, I’ll call the whole thing off right now.”

Izumo tensed up without meaning to. It was quiet as a graveyard in the bar. No one seemed to want to be the first to answer. Even Yata seemed to be thinking the situation over. Taking a chance, Izumo pressed on.

“If none of you are objecting I assume we’re in agreement?” he tried. Nothing was said to contradict him. “I know many of you were not prepared for this, so you’re dismissed until you can clear up any other obligations. But for those of you who are free, I’d like to start as soon as possible. It’s very likely that our target has left the city. However, that doesn’t mean we can be any less on the lookout.

“I’d like you all to break into teams to search en masse. I’d also like others to ask around—we have other pictures of the target, use those so people don’t think we’re looking for the same guy. Look into every lead possible. I’ll talk to Eri-chan again and see if I can get into contact with SCEPTER4.”

“_Yes sir!!_” The resounding shout was almost deafening. “_No blood! No bone! No ash!_”

Distracted by the commotion, Izumo again missed seeing Anna until she was right in front of him. He smiled at the girl. “You want to try and find him?” She nodded. “I’ll dig up the maps to make it easier on you, okay?”

Anna struggled to take a seat at the bar. She was abruptly lifted up and placed on the stool by Yata. The two male members of HOMRA looked at each other for a moment. “You’re pretty good at this, Kusanagi-san,” Yata said. The next second he was rolling towards the door on his skateboard.

“Thanks Yata-chan... Now take your damn skateboard outside!”

* * *

If he was to be asked how he was feeling, the boy wouldn’t have been able to answer properly. Everything that was bothering him was all there at once, nothing more prominent than the other. Every uncomfortable feeling was set to an equal magnitude, so to pick one out to even begin to describe his situation would be impossible.

In short, the best answer would be “not well.” Alternatively, “terrible” was also an accurate answer.

But that was never the response they wanted to hear. Every time they asked that question, it seemed as if they expected positive results. And every time he answered honestly they were disappointed, like there was no way he couldn’t be feeling good after what they did to him.

His name was Yanamo Anso. He was thirteen years old. He was supposed to be graduating elementary school in the near future. He was supposed to be looking into his middle school of choice. He was supposed to be wondering if any girls would be giving him chocolate for Valentine’s Day (whether it was confession or friendship chocolate was irrelevant).

He was not supposed to be here. He was not supposed to be clueless as to where he really was. He was not supposed to be cold, starving, and in pain every second of the day. He was not supposed to be frowned upon for not feeling well. He was not supposed to be shoved into a dark room most of the time and blinded whenever he actually saw the faintest amounts of light.

The experiments were definitely the worst. Anso wasn’t certain to what was actually being done to him, but he could tell that they were experiments from the way the others talked. They used all sorts of words like “subject” and “testing” and “hypothesized” that had seemed to have lost their rational meaning outside of a science classroom.

The “scientists” never seemed to mind if he talked to them, even when they weren’t asking him questions. And he certainly had things he wanted to say. The lump that formed in his throat every time Anso tried to speak was what was truly preventing him from learning anything. The lump only dispersed when he was screaming in some haze of pain, and that honestly didn’t count.

“Hey.”

He must have dosed off into some dream. No one ever spoke to him. There was no one to speak to him. The room where he stayed had no conceivable way of even knowing if someone else was around unless the door had been opened. And since that wasn’t the case, there was no way this was real.

“Hey, you.”

Anso was almost wary of being in a dream. He usually only ended up having nightmares that were so close to reality that they probably could not even be dreams and he wouldn’t know the difference. It was one of the main reasons why he was so unsure of the exact amount of time he had been here.

“Excuse me. I can see you. Will you please answer me?”

Anso opened his eyes and was unable to see for a completely different reason than the usual dark state his room was in. That being the case, it took a few minutes to recover from the beam of light that hit him in the face. Once he did, Anso found that there was a small hole in one of his walls that hadn’t been there before.

“…what?” he whispered.

“You are awake. I’m so glad I found someone,” the voice addressing him said. It was a girl’s voice. “It was hard work getting through this wall.”

Regaining his senses, Anso crawled across the floor to where the light was coming from. His eyes still stung and filled up with spots when he tried to look at it. That passed after another few minutes, and he was able to make out a singular blue eye staring at him.

“Um… Who exactly are you?” Anso asked, not knowing what to expect. If this was just a dream, he wanted to stay in it. It was pleasant, unlike the others. He remembered that it was rude to ask for someone’s name without giving his first. “My name is Anso…”

Saying the words was ridiculous in a no logic place like this, but it almost made the encounter feel normal.

“It’s nice to meet you Anso!” the voice chirped. Definitely a young girl at that. “It’s not my real name, but you can call me Hisa!”

* * *

By normal standards, being stuck on desk duty was boring. To Fushimi Saruhiko’s standards, being stuck on desk duty was the equivalent of being stranded in the middle of nothing, in a pure white that extended for miles and never changed so you had to try and gouge your own eyes out for the sake of having something to watch. To add insult to injury, he had been the one to volunteer for the desk job in the first place.

It wasn’t as if he was a masochist for such things. That sort of statement was so far from the truth that it was laughable. What he was, however, was someone who didn’t enjoy the prospect of exerting himself in even minimal amounts. Unless it was for the sake of his own personal interests, he didn’t want anything to do with actively assisting SCEPTER4’s agenda.

But that sure as hell didn’t mean that Saruhiko _liked_ his desk job.

It was really a stupid job if anything. While normal people didn’t understand all the interesting tidbits that went into the running of SCEPTER4, they relied on the organization. Sometimes Saruhiko had to simply observe the city on his own, others he actually had to talk to people who contributed information and complaints to the organization.

Days when he was assigned to deal with the latter of the two were days he almost missed being in HOMRA. Almost.

Saruhiko had left his last affiliation mainly because he had been sick and tired of what they did. If he were to be perfectly honest (and he usually was, although it was a twisted, nasty definition of “honest”), he was starting to get to the point that he was getting sick and tired of SCEPTER 4 as well. Aside from the fact that there really was nowhere else for him to go, he might have left already.

Being nothing was just barely worse than this. And that just barely counted for a whole lot in Saruhiko’s mind.

If anything, the saving grace of today was that he hadn’t been assigned to phone duty. While staring down screens and worsening his already damaged eyesight looking for things that were never really there wasn’t necessarily good, it beat out having to listen to civilians complain in his ear for hours on end.

Why they even thought he was a good choice for that sort of work anyway was beyond him.

Maybe at one point it had been somewhat interesting. After all, the city had once held so much more to it. Kings proclaimed their goals, and their clansmen went out to achieve them. But after the Ashinaka Gakuen incident, the number of active Kings had dwindled to the point that the streets were as good as dead.

How long would it be until new Kings were crowned? How long until their clans were formed, their doors opened, and their members running wild? Saruhiko couldn’t say he was looking forward to others obtaining such a useless status, but the other results were perks he couldn’t ignore.

_I really wish that we knew all the rules for this. More of the selfish urges of kings who pay no mind to us, who think we don’t need to know their secrets._ These were his feelings that had been growing long before he had left HOMRA. Just thinking about it made him feel irritated.

Saruhiko scratched at a certain place right above his left collarbone. It had always been a bad habit, one he considered as such but never had really taken the means to break. Now it was almost comical, considering what he had always been trying to scratch at was no longer there. It had never been the burn scars, but the remains of a mark that had peeked out between them.

That mark had disappeared along with everyone else’s. The only things Saruhiko had left to connect him to HOMRA were the aura and some memories he didn’t even want. Trying to get rid of something that wasn’t even there was pointless.

But it had never been the scars.

He returned his hand to his side and resumed staring at the screens.

_Ah, I see Misaki’s at it again,_ Saruhiko noted. It wasn’t intentional, but he had noticed his old partner going around the city at most times. Today was no different. The lunch hour had long passed, and Misaki was surely desperately searching as always. Saruhiko didn’t know what for, but he was certain the search had been a failure so far.

_But isn’t this… a different route than usual? I was certain he already covered this route in the mornings._

Double checking with earlier footage, Saruhiko found that he was correct. Misaki was riding down the exact same street had been on earlier. However, there was something different in his old partner’s posture. It was a subtle difference, but Saruhiko could still pick up on it, even after all these years.

What would be concerning to most only sent a lick of interest through Saruhiko’s mind. Zooming in on Misaki’s face, he could see the difference. Where there had once been near nothingness was now burning with determination. It was so familiar Saruhiko almost couldn’t take it. It took a concentrated effort to _not_ get up and go challenge the other teenager to a fight.

Because for the first time since the death of the Red King, Misaki would be _worth it_.

But that wasn’t all. Subconsciously, Saruhiko’s eye picked up more familiar faces. After that, he could see other members of HOMRA that had joined after he had left. All of them were carrying themselves with something similar to Misaki’s own determination. It made him reminisce and feel disgusted all at once.

It was serious. Whatever had caused it didn’t matter because it meant there was _something_ to do. He wouldn’t do anything for SCEPTER4 he didn’t have to, but he would do it if it meant he could get in Misaki’s way. Because that was what they did.

The members of HOMRA returned the life into the city, and Saruhiko grinned as he watched them.


	4. Chapter Four: Remains III

**Reconstruction**

By: Aviantei

Chapter Four

Remains III

* * *

For the past three weeks, it had been necessary for Munakata Reisi to remind himself that he hadn’t done anything wrong.

He had allowed Suoh Mikoto to kill the Colorless and Silver Kings. _(One king was evil, the other had sacrificed himself.)_ He had killed the Red King not long after. _(A second Kagutsu Crater Incident had been prevented.)_ He had left HOMRA without giving them any consequences for their actions at Ashinaka Gakuen. _(They were in mourning.)_

He hadn’t killed the Colorless King himself. He hadn’t stopped Suoh from exceeding his Weismann limit. He hadn’t given HOMRA any of the answers they deserved. These things had yet to be justified.

Reisi hadn’t done anything wrong, but hadn’t done everything he could have. He also hadn’t done anything _right_.

But he didn’t have the time to think about those sorts of things. Just because the incident had concluded, that didn’t mean that SCEPTER4 stopped working. If anything, there was more work to do than ever in the absence of three of the Kings. There would be disorganization, and the search for those who would become the next Kings.

It was also the first time that there was no Silver King. While the First King did not take much action in concern to the rest of the world, his loss was still obvious. Considering who had succeeded the last king that had died, the Blue and Gold Kings were both nervous about waiting for three new kings to take their place.

In addition to that, the Blue King was still responsible for maintaining SCEPTER4. They had a duty to the city and couldn’t just suddenly stop performing it. Things were relatively calm on the surface, but certain reports were far more frequent than acceptable.

The most concerning issue were the disappearances. Abductions were common in cities this size, but the percentage had recently gone above the average. Furthermore, the pool of people being taken was much larger than the standard of people no one would miss. Missing persons cases were quickly shifted from the police into SCEPTER4 offices. The entire incident was beyond the scope of normal human trafficking.

In addition, localized blackouts had been occurring during the past two weeks. Reisi normally wouldn’t have given the matter much thought—the city’s power grid was in need of maintenance, nothing more. But when investigations proved otherwise, and even technicians could find nothing wrong with the buildings in question, it quickly become SCEPTER4’s problem.

It was more than likely a Strain. That could be dealt with easily enough, but tracking it down had proven to be an issue. No one had seen anyone suspicious before the blackouts and there was no pattern. Like the abductions, Reisi had distributed small teams to look into the incident.

There were still no leads on either account.

It should have concerned Reisi more than it did, but he still wasn’t up to putting that much effort into it just yet. There were plenty of standard actions they could take to investigate that would appease the organizations that backed SCEPTER4. It was all simple enough that Reisi had delegated most of the responsibilities to Awashima.

The Lieutenant had taken to the work with enthusiasm. She commanded with ease, and things were running just as smoothly as ever.

There was a knock on the door. “Awashima reporting,” the familiar voice said.

“Come in,” Reisi responded. The door opened to reveal the busty SCEPTER4 member. She walked into the room, standing at attention before his desk. “What is it? Did something come up in one of the investigations?”

“No, not yet,” Awashima admitted. “But that’s not what I’m here about.” Reisi looked up from the puzzle he was barely focusing on, urging her to continue. “It may just be nothing, but Fushimi reported that HOMRA has started moving.”

Shock marred Reisi’s expression, but only for a second. He adjusted his glasses while he regained his composure. “Have they?” he asked. “They’ve made moves that haven’t caused much trouble in the past. What exactly is their purpose?”

“I… I’m not certain, Captain,” Awashima said. “They only seem to be scouting the city, but Fushimi seemed to find it important enough to report so…”

Reisi kept his face calm, but he still felt bothered. He hadn’t expected HOMRA to take any action this soon after Suoh’s death. Part of him had hoped that they wouldn’t do anything at all, that he would never have to hear that name again.

_Then again, maybe this is what I deserve…_

“If Fushimi-kun found it important enough to actually report it,” Reisi said, choosing his words carefully, “we should at least give it some consideration. Do you agree, Awashima-kun?”

The woman jumped slightly at her name. Reisi chose to ignore it. “Understood, sir. I’ll get someone to look into the situation right away. Would you like me to assume resume responsibility for this as well?” Awashima waited expectantly. Reisi considered his options.

“No. I’ll take care of things myself.” Reisi stood up. “You can keep up with the responsibilities you already have. Besides, I have my own position to think of. I can’t be slacking off any more than I have been.”

“Captain, no one blames you,” Awashima said as her superior walked towards the door. “Honestly, I can handle managing one more task. If you would like to rest some more it’s okay.” Reisi stopped but didn’t look back. Just at the moment he was about to speak, Awashima’s phone rang. “Um…”

“It’s alright, Awashima-kun,” Reisi said. “Answer the phone. If it concerns your investigations, you still have free reign to give any orders you wish. If you feel as if you absolutely need my guidance, don’t hesitate to call. Let’s work hard today.”

“Y-yes Captain! Good luck to you!”

Her words fell on uninterested ears.

* * *

“Kusanagi-san wants to talk,” Eri announced. The woman placed her phone back on the table. Hitomi looked across at her, mouth still full of the bite of noodles she was taking.

“Huh? What about?” Hitomi asked after swallowing.

“Well we weren’t able to ‘talk’ much when I was there earlier,” Eri said. She put her chopsticks together and placed them on the top of her empty bowl. “All Kusanagi-san really knows is who we’re searching for. He doesn’t really know any of the how or why. It’s understandable that he would want to know that and discuss terms properly before putting forth the effort of his men like that.”

Hitomi surveyed her bowl as if trying to determine the best way to empty it of its contents. “I don’t like that idea,” she said. “It makes it sound like if we say the wrong things then they’ll call the whole thing off. Especially with you still keeping up the mute act with them. It’ll be far too easy for your meaning to be taken the wrong way.”

“Which is why you’ll be doing the talking for me,” Eri announced without hesitation. Hitomi nearly choked on the noodles she had tried to eat after speaking.

“Nee-san! You can’t be serious!” The younger of the two coughed, still recovering. “There’s no way I’d be able to explain everything to this Kusanagi guy properly. I can barely even think of all the questions he might ask to prepare myself. And even if you helped me with that, what if he asks me something I haven’t prepared to answer? I’ll freeze up and fuck everything up even more!”

“You can’t think like that, Hitomi.” Eri moved Mie-chan off the table to sit on her lap. “Besides,” she said, forming signs with her fingers that matched her words as she spoke, “if you interpret for me we shouldn’t have any real issues. I’ll even keep a slow pace so you can take as long as you like. It’ll be fine.”

Hitomi gave her sister a long stare before sighing in defeat. “Are you certain they’ll be okay with that?”

“Of course. Kusanagi-san’s a nice person.” Eri gave a pure smile that stayed on her lips while her words came out. “I’m quite certain he won’t be offended even if you just look at me the whole time. It’ll be exactly the same as when Ruyaki and I were giving you sign language lessons. And you picked that up so quickly, I’m certain we’ll be absolutely fine.” The woman accentuated the signed half of the conversation with a thumbs-up at the end.

Hitomi abruptly stood up, her chopsticks clattering as she dropped them into the now second empty bowl on the table. “Well let’s go then!” she declared. Eri looked up at her questioningly. “If we don’t go now I just know I’ll lose my momentum! So let’s go, okay?!”

Eri stood up, pulling a small change purse from her vest pocket. Mie-chan was tucked under her elbow. “Your real enthusiasm is showing, Hitomi,” she commented. Eri placed the yen bills on the table, tucking the purse back away when she was done. “But I’m alright with heading back to HOMRA.”

“What time does Kusanagi even want to meet up anyway?” Hitomi asked.

“His text said ‘whenever you’re free,’” Eri quoted. “But he’s so polite that it probably really means ‘as soon as possible.”

“That’s just what I need.” Hitomi slid open the compartment’s door. “Thanks for the food,” she called to the chef, folding her arms behind her head. Eri trailed behind as they exited the ramen shop. The two walked down the street, until Hitomi stopped right in her tracks. “Nee-san, which way was the bar again?”

The brunette looked back in the middle of the crowd for a response, but Eri was looking away, already committed to public silence.

* * *

_This sucks._

_This sucks, this sucks, this sucks, this sucks, this sucks…_

It was hard to breathe. His lungs were going to somehow implode from the lack of air he just couldn’t get ahold of. His heart felt the same. Desperately, he put his hands to his chest, hoping that would make the pain disperse.

_No. You’ve gotta keep calm. Relax. Remember what Masaka-san said. Breathe. Even if it’s hard, just breathe. Don’t be afraid of it. No fear. No fear, no fear no fear—_

But that was impossible. Sparks jumped off his body. Newa Konde backed away from the metal railing he had been thoughtlessly leaning against. Not able to go anywhere else in his current state, Konde shuffled and collapsed into sitting in the middle of the roof.

He had discovered his power about three months ago.

Konde had never been good with talking to others. Every time he tried, it was a borderline nervous breakdown. All the way through middle school, he had never made any friends. Knowing that he wouldn’t be able to get a job, even with the proper education, Konde opted not to attend high school.

Concerned, his parents had chosen to spend the money intended for college on sending the boy to therapy.

The entire process had gone relatively well. While still often nervous, Konde was able to at least function on an acceptable level in most situations. Two years later than most with only the merit of graduating middle school to their name, he had obtained a minimum wage fast food job. Aware of his condition, the managers even had Konde assigned to the kitchens during most of his shifts.

But one day, a trade in shifts and an inconvenient illness of one of his coworkers had left them short staffed. Until someone else could be called in, Konde was assigned to the front register. Not even an hour later, _she_ walked in.

It happened all at once—

Unsuspecting, Konde asked the girl for her order.

Instead of providing a rational response, she grabbed onto his hands, almost pulling him across the counter when she straightened.

She said she recognized him from the therapist’s office.

Konde was forced to admit that he didn’t recognize her at all.

She said her name was Meiri, but he could call her Mei.

_Mei, Mei, Mei, Mei—_

And that was that. Konde had held himself together, but was still told to go on break. Mei was there the next time he was working the grills and waited until he was off the clock to talk to him, even though Konde’s shift ran late. She was there every day he worked, for a week, a month, a year, then two. He walked her home and they talked about whatever was on their minds.

Somewhere in the middle of talking, they started dating.

The years passed. Mei graduated high school and enrolled in the university in the next city over so they could move in together. She studied in the restaurant when Konde worked. He didn’t know what else he would do. The time flew by like it was nothing.

Mei was going to graduate in March. Konde had decided to propose to her. They went on a date at the end of November to shop for their families’ Christmas presents. He bought the ring while she wasn’t looking. Not wanting to wait, he decided to do it at that moment, even though they were in the middle of the street. Half the words were out of Konde’s mouth before a nearby electronic store’s window display exploded.

That entire shopping district had its power cut off. No one could figure out what happened. It was a mystery, an accident. Konde resolved the completion of his proposal would be the very first thing he’d do when he went to visit Mei in the hospital.

Except only her family was allowed to visit. Konde thought he was close enough but didn’t argue. A nurse told him that it would probably only be a few days before her parents changed their minds. He doubted it. Mei’s mother had never liked him much anyways. It would have to wait.

And then he almost blew up his alarm clock, and Konde knew that there was no way he could visit Mei in the hospital now. Not if technology was just going to blow up in his face. Then it occurred to him that maybe Mei’s accident wasn’t an accident.

That maybe it had been his fault.

Everything got worse from there.

He started panicking again, much like his chronic nervousness. Except now there was electricity involved. He started avoiding technology, which was hard in a city like Shizume. He could leave, _should_ leave, but all the ways out of the city involved the trains or vehicles. Even the most standard _bike_ had technology in the form of trackers in case they were stolen. Walking to a survivable living area was impossible. He couldn’t even buy supplies without going into a store.

As long as he wasn’t too close to any specific piece of technology, Konde only caused blackouts when he discharged. So while there hadn’t been any other incidents like with Mei, the amount of times his power set off was something he wasn’t comfortable with.

He couldn’t really talk to many people without being near technology, and his cell phone had been fried long ago. There was no way for him to talk to Mei without blowing someone else up. The guilt and isolation both persisted for months.

Konde felt like he was going to regress.

“Looks like you’re about to blow again, Sparky.”

Konde scowled, not turning around to face her. Out of all the people who had claimed that all they wanted to help him, Minenai was the one whom he actively hated.

The woman wasn’t having any of that. “So rude, Sparky.” The sound of her clicking heels as she walked in front of him mixed in with her voice. Minenai tossed an end of the dark blue scarf she was wearing over her shoulder. She had a pretty face, but the short chopped locks colored a pale green weren’t to Konde’s liking. “We’re just trying to help you.”

Konde’s chest hurt more, so he didn’t move. Moving would only make it worse. “If anyone out of you bunch of freaks is trying to help me, it isn’t you,” he retorted. It was a relief that the words still came out. “All you want to do is antagonize me into blowing up city blocks.”

Minenai sighed and squatted down in front of the young man. He could almost see up her too tight skirt but wasn’t interested. She poked his forehead with a ring bearing finger. The piece of jewelry was black, but the sunlight still reflected off of it. “Geeze, come on, you little twerp,” she said, pushing his head back and forth. “I’m trying to get you to accept your power. It’s ‘cause you’re treating it so harshly that it keeps blowing up on you like this.”

“Go away,” Konde snapped. He didn’t want to accept something that had hurt Mei. He wanted it gone. “And I don’t have the patience to deal with you either. So unless you want all your little gadgets to be broken, you should just give up on this mess. And I’m not a ‘little twerp,’ I’m twenty-three!” The last part was childish, a reflection of his frustration. A spark shot off him, singing the rooftop

Minenai whistled. “Wow, check you out.” Minenai’s hand moved from his forehead to scratch at the mark in front of her. “See this?” she asked, flicking ash at him “This is the sort of thing you can do when you put your mind to it. Since you’re not acknowledging it consciously, it’s acting off your subconscious.” The woman smirked. “You gotta learn to control this or you’ll never be able to see that girl of yours again.”

Konde’s anger shot through the roof. Minenai may not have been the only one to know about what had happened, but she was the only one that ever brought it up. He felt like he would puke, except it would be the intense tingling ripping out his pores. His anger only made the feeling worse.

_“Just shut up!” _

The force of his shout ripped through the air, and Konde discharged. He could feel where the electricity bounded off to and the top floors of the building losing their power in an instant. The rest of his pent up energy lashed out towards Minenai. When Konde opened his eyes, the woman was sprawled out on the adjacent roof top and parts of both roofs were missing.

He panicked.

_No, no no no no no—_

_Dammit!_

This would definitely cause an investigation. There was no way around it. And there was no time to check to see if Minenai was alright. He needed to get out of here, hopefully without letting anyone he see him long enough to track him down. He had been lucky so far, but nothing like this had ever happened.

Konde turned and ran from the second person he had hurt with his curse of a power. 


	5. Chapter Five: Recount

**Reconstruction**

By: Aviantei

Chapter Five

Recount

* * *

When considering the situation, Hitomi and Eri were a duo predestined to get lost, even if they were walking a mere few blocks. There was nothing that could be done about the situation; even when they had someone leading them, the women could get lost in a crowd without ever being separated from each other. It was almost an unnatural ability, and the only solution Nezuto was able to come up with to _fix_ the damned issue was to attach one of them to a leash. They would stick together on their own.

Not that something like that was even an option. He was an escort, not an animal walker for crying out loud! That wasn’t saying the two _were_ animals either, because that was just in bad taste, even for someone like him.

“Although humans are _technically_ mammals, so they’re animals, too, right…? What am I saying, that doesn’t make it okay!”

The point of the matter was that Nezuto was in no way surprised to find that they had gotten lost. Eri’s politeness and Hitomi’s stubbornness answered for why they hadn’t contacted him to ask for help. The only question he had left was one they couldn’t answer. Furthermore, his own distracted shouting had attracted their attention.

They were both looking at him, a quartet of hazel and pale green. Hitomi stood in place, and Eri urged her sister on with that cat toy of hers. Hitomi sighed, and the two walked towards the mouth of the alley Nezuto had just come from.

“Lost again, I see,” he said.

Hitomi scowled. “Hello, Urumana-san,” she said, tone not matching up with her expression. It was almost cute how she was afraid of the wrath of Eri’s stuffed animal. The fact that the older woman was significantly shorter and politer looking than the street punk looking Hitomi just made the dynamic funnier. “And you guessed right; we’re lost.”

Nezuto repressed his laugh to a chuckle. “I don’t know why I expect anything else out of you two.” He shook his head. “Are you two trying to find someplace to have lunch?” This time Eri was the one to shake her head. “Already ate, huh? So where exactly are you heading? I’m done with other work for now, so I can pick up my job with you guys again.”

Hitomi muttered something that sounded something like “flaky bastard” which resulted in a stuffed cat paw to the ribs. The hit may have had more force than Nezuto thought, because the girl was rubbing her side wincing. “We’re heading back to HOMRA,” she said, voice tinged with mild pain. “That hurt, Nee-san…” Eri didn’t look the least bit apologetic.

_It’s almost like she’s saying that it was deserved…_

“Wait, so you’re telling me you went out to get some food and then couldn’t find your way back?” Nezuto realized. Eri nodded, her expression serene. The guide was forced to try and speak properly through laughter. “Haha, honestly? That takes some—ahahaha—real skill right there! Pfft, I can’t believe people like you actually exist!”

“Oh shut it!” Hitomi shouted. The teenager’s fists were clenched, and Nezuto took a few deep breaths. He wasn’t exactly in the mood to be punched today. Eri placed a hand on the younger girl’s shoulder, but Nezuto was certain he could still get clocked at any minute. “You’re our escort, asshole, try to act professional, will ya?!”

Once the laughter stopped, said escort wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. “Sorry, sorry,” he apologized. “If that’s the case, then this ‘professional’ is under the impression that I should escort you to back to HOMRA in order to avoid any more mishaps.” Eri nodded her approval. “We can even stop by a store for an icepack for that bruised side of yours, Hitomi-san.”

The teenager scoffed and dropped her arm from her side. “Like hell,” she said. “I ain’t so weak as to need an ice pack over a tiny little hit like this. I’m probably made of sturdier stuff than you are, Urumana, so just keep your mouth shut!” Hitomi crossed her arms over her chest, and Nezuto pretended like he didn’t see the faint blush forming on her cheeks.

Did he mention the part where he _really_ wasn’t in the mood to be hit today?

Nezuto bowed, flourishing a hand in the direction he intended to start off on. “Well then, my ladies, if you would care to follow me,” he said before turning around to lead. The sound of footsteps let him know they were following. Already his senses were telling him to use routes that he consciously knew wouldn’t be too crowded at this time of day. At least it would be easy enough to find them again.

His sense of direction kept leading Nezuto back to them. And his sense of direction always took him where he needed to go.

“Although… I just don’t get it…What exactly do these two have to do with what I’m looking for…?”

Like always, his questions fell into the air without being answered.

* * *

Hitomi’s first impression of HOMRA was that she didn’t fit in. Not amongst the people—if anyone could fit in with a gang of street punks it would be her, even with her social issues. But the bar was dimly lit and elegant, the wood a beautiful dark brown, and the bottles on the back wall giving off a muted rainbow. Eri seemed to blend into the scenery, like it was exactly where she belonged. Hitomi could hardly imagine a single street punk even stepping foot inside, let alone using it as their base.

That disbelief also created the vast denial that the man running the bar was in charge. Not moving away from the door, Hitomi looked to Eri for guidance.

_‘Kusanagi-san,’_ the older girl spelled out with her hands, pointing towards the bar.

“Kusanagi-san,” Hitomi repeated, causing the man to smile. He was handsome enough, but for some reason was wearing sunglasses in the already dark bar. She vaguely wondered if his hair was naturally blonde or dyed.

Her stomach did a backflip that had nothing to do with his looks.

“Ah, Eri-chan!” Kusanagi exclaimed. His casual referral caused a short burst of annoyance to Hitomi. They had just met this morning! “I didn’t expect you to respond so early. I see you brought an interpreter along this time. That’ll make conversation much easier.”

“I’m her sister,” Hitomi said, almost in defense. She could feel the animosity make her voice sound harsh. It always seemed to happen. “Fuba Hitomi. I’m looking for Nii-san, too.”

Eri released one of her silent sighs and gave the other girl an encouraging smile.

Whether or not Hitomi’s rudeness bothered him, Kusanagi didn’t seem to mind. “In that case, come and sit down,” he said, gesturing to the barstools in front of him. “The same order as earlier, Eri-chan?” The woman nodded. A small table menu was placed in Hitomi’s hands as she sat down. “And you, _mademoiselle_?”

Just reading the menu made her feel out of place. The teenager was fairly certain she couldn’t legally order most of the drinks, and she didn’t know what the rest of them were. Eri clicked her fingers, snapping her sister to attention.

_‘Just tell him you’re underage,’_ Eri told her. _‘Order a soda or something. Don’t stress about it. He really is nice.’_

A nice gang boss. That was convincing.

Kusanagi waited patiently for the interpretation. “Sorry, I’m fifteen,” Hitomi said, placing the menu back on the counter. It stood up on its own. “I’ll take an iced tea, though.” She imagined the carbonation of a soda would only make her nervousness worse. At least she didn’t shake when it happened, just couldn’t speak. It wasn’t that bad at least.

“_Oui, mademoiselle_,” Kusanagi said. Hitomi knew the words were French but not much else. The bartender turned his back to begin preparations. “Now, as I mentioned in my email, there are some things I’d like to discuss with the two of you concerning our agreement.”

Hitomi sat sideways on her stool face Eri. It was all up to her sister now. “‘That’s fine, we had some things we had questions about, too,’” Hitomi spoke in her place. Just like Eri had said; this was the same as practice. The whole process was oddly relaxing.

“Well in that case, ladies first.” Eri shook her head.

“‘I’m certain what you have to say is more important. If—’ Slow down, Nee-san, I can’t read that fast,” Hitomi complained. Eri slowed her pace and restarted the sentence. “Oh, ‘what you have to ask may just clear up some of our questions as well.’”

Hitomi hadn’t considered that as an option. But Eri was more than just polite; she was smart. She knew how to read people in all sorts of ways Hitomi didn’t.

Kusanagi placed Hitomi’s glass of tea in front of her. “If you insist… After all, how am I supposed to refuse the request of a beautiful lady?” He was _flirting_ with Eri. Right in front of her younger sister, too! Asshole! Part of Hitomi’s nervousness was replaced with a dull anger. Screw the plan, if this fucker so much as _looked_ at her the wrong way—

“Feel free to answer in any order you wish.” Hitomi tried to unclench her fists as Kusanagi talked. Eri didn’t notice, trying to simulate a normal conversation by looking at the bartender. “We would we like to know why you’re looking for this young man and what you intend to do when you find him. And I’m personally curious as to why two ‘sisters’ have different last names. That is, if you don’t mind me asking.”

_Ah, damn, that one was my fault…_ Hitomi gave an apologetic smile and shrug. Eri signed out ‘_It’s okay,’_ before continuing to address Kusanagi.

“‘Some of those answers mix together. Is that alright?’” Hitomi watched Kusanagi closely. He only nodded. “‘We’re looking for Ruyaki because he suddenly disappeared.’” Hitomi had said his given name before realizing how foreign it sounded on her tongue. “‘We’re not certain if the one in the video is the Ruyaki we’re looking for in terms of personality, but that’s definitely his body.’”

Kusanagi didn’t react, but for Hitomi, it was becoming hard to imitate Eri’s usual calm tone. Even thinking about the video made Hitomi want to scream.

It was all a lie, what was recorded. It had to be.

“‘I was dating him,’” Eri admitted, slightly blushing. It took Hitomi a few seconds to actually say the words. She had to disconnect herself from what was being said; otherwise it would affect her too much. The words had no meaning. It was practice. “‘Ah, he was a bit younger than me. We met when I was still in school. He wanted to teach kids with disabilities, so we bonded over sign language. Ruyaki was the one who introduced me to Hitomi-chan.”

Eri was shortening things up to avoid reminiscing too much, but she still had a wistful look on her face. Hitomi forced herself to stare down the woman’s hands to help focus in the present. When Kusanagi handed Eri her drink, Hitomi chose to fill the silence.

“He was my brother.” _Lie_. “He didn’t act strange at all before he disappeared.” _Lie._ “It just happened.” _Lie. All lies._ It was too easy. Much easier talking to strangers when you didn’t have to be honest.

“Nii-san and Nee-san were together so long that I started to treat her like my sister,” Hitomi said.

That was the truth.

Eri smiled as put her glass down. Hitomi couldn’t tell what she was thinking. But Eri had never had a problem with the lies before. The older woman more than likely understood from the perspective of someone that could not speak outside of normal means. Eri needed sign language and Mie-chan to have a voice at all just like Hitomi needed lies to have a voice around others.

“Well that certainly makes sense,” Kusanagi said. “At least it does to someone like me. Carry on.”

Hitomi took a deep breath to prepare herself. “Go ahead, Nee-san.”

The door slammed open. Eri jumped, scattering the beginnings of her sentence. Kusanagi twitched. Hitomi was standing in an instant, body shifting into a defensive stance as she faced the doorway.

The boy—young man? He was so short Hitomi couldn’t tell his age—seemed a bit distressed, but serious enough nonetheless. He was wearing green shorts and a white t-shirt, a red jacket wrapped around his waist. A black beanie covered most of his red hair, and a skateboard was tucked under his arm. It took a moment to jog her memory, but Hitomi could recognize him.

“You’re that asshole that ran into us outside the ramen shop!”

“Kusanagi-san, is everyone alright?!”

The two teenagers shouted at the same time, causing Eri and Kusanagi to wince in equal unison. Hitomi relaxed a bit; if he referred to the bartender that way, the new arrival was more than likely not a threat. Even so, she was still irritated after the incident at the ramen shop—even if he had apologized, couldn’t he look where he was going?

“Yata-chan, what’s the matter?” Kusanagi said, looking concerned. Hitomi snickered and mentally filed the nickname for her own use. “As you can see Anna, our guests and I are fine. Did something happen?”

“There was report of another blackout on the news,” “Yata-chan” explained, his tone more serious than Hitomi would have imagined. “But it wasn’t just a blackout this time, though. A woman was found on a building, hurt. Said it looked like electric damage. It definitely sounds like a Strain.” He paused and lowered his voice. “It was nearby so I got worried and ran back.”

“Well we didn’t see anything.” Kusanagi smiled and went to get something from under the bar. “If it’s a Strain, though, SCEPTER4’s going to be in the area. Things will get complicated, but I still think we should take a look around before they get here. I’d prefer them not causing trouble so close to home.” When the bartender stood up straight, he offered a bottle of water to Yata-chan. The other male crossed the bar to get it.

“What’s a Strain?” Hitomi asked, not recognizing the English term. Yata-chan looked at her as if noticing the two women for the first time. Even though he had been standing beside them to claim the bottle of water, the boy still jumped back, knocking into one of the stools behind him, face even more red than before.

_Wh-what’s he so embarrassed for? It’s not like I did anything! No wait, he’s staring at me… Don’t tell me he likes me!_

Completely misreading the situation, Hitomi felt her own face heat up as well. Without realizing that she was wrong, the teenager began to think too hard, embarrassing herself into being as mute as her sister. The male teenager spluttered over his words, not being able to get anything else out as well.

Kusanagi and Eri sighed in mutual exasperation. Although their reasons may have been different, they could have also been the same. Hitomi was aware of the situation, but words refused to come out of her throat. Hoping it would help her recover, she took a drink from her ice tea glass.

It didn’t work.

“Well, as you can see, Yata-chan, we’re all alright,” Kusanagi said. Face still red, the boy nodded at his leader. “Well you were the one that brought up the question in the first place, so it’ll be good to have you here when I ask. Eri-chan, Hitomi-chan, just what exactly do you two intend to do when we find this ‘Ruyaki’?”

Hitomi couldn’t retort to the casual honorific, let alone yell at Kusanagi for not treating her brother’s name with any respect. Even if she was getting angry about it, the words really weren’t coming out. It was unusual, considering anger, if anything else failed, was able to open her mouth again in most situations. She smiled back at Eri, shaking her head.

_Sorry, Nee-chan, I’m really done for…_

Eri placed her glass back on the counter, looking uncomfortable herself. She picked Mie-chan up, squeezing the toy between her fingers. Both Kusanagi and Yata-chan were staring, waiting for an answer. For the other girl’s sake, Hitomi tried her best to speak and failed again.

“I guess it can’t be helped.”

Eri’s voice was calm, reassuring beyond anything else. Hitomi smiled as she listened, feeling her nerves start to settle down. Both Kusanagi and Yata-chan started in surprise, which was understandable. As far as they were concerned, Eri was mute—part of Hitomi keeping Mie-chan while the older first made contact with HOMRA was to reduce the chance of them finding the truth on accident.

“What the hell?!” Yata-chan shouted, although it was more out of surprise than anger. Hitomi felt a bit miffed that he had regained the ability to speak first. “You said she was mute, right, Kusanagi-san?!”

“Calm down, Yata-chan, you’re being rude,” Kusanagi reprimanded. “Considering the fact that she still hasn’t opened her mouth yet, even though we supposedly heard her speak, there’s something else going on here. Would you care to explain, Eri-chan?”

Eri nodded. “This is Mie-chan,” she said, holding up the plush cat in question. Kusanagi kept a straight face, but Yata-chan seemed absolutely dumbfounded.

“_Huh_?”

“I’ve only had him for the past few months. Hitomi-chan made him for me,” Eri said without hesitating. Yata didn’t seem to know which of the two women to gawk at. A light dust of color made it to Hitomi’s cheeks. “Well, Ruyaki helped her with some of the craftsmanship, but the important part is what goes inside.

“Hitomi’s really good with technology. I really don’t understand much of the science, and she’s a bit out of commission right now, so you’ll have to settle for the minor details. Part of Mie-chan’s makeup is based off of brain monitoring technology. All of the brain’s actions come from signals from chemicals. By reading these chemicals our body does what we want it to do.

“Mie-chan reads those signals through highly specialized sensors. It’s experimental, and highly advanced since it doesn’t need to be hooked up to my brain. He can’t do much else, but he can give me a voice… and that’s all I can really ask for…” Eri hugged the toy to her chest, smiling, a few tears forming at the corners of her eyes. Hitomi reached out and took one of her sister’s hands.

Kusanagi nodded a few times. Yata seemed just as confused as before. “That’s really amazing,” the older of the two said. “I never would have suspected that such a thing could already even exist. Hitomi-chan, you’re very talented for your age.”

Hitomi ignored the compliment, not looking at the person who had delivered it. Her hand squeezed against Eri’s. “Kusanagi-san, Yata-san, weren’t you asking about what we wanted to do once we found Ruyaki?”

“That’s right,” Kusanagi said. Yata gave a fierce nod. His expression was almost dangerous in its determination. “We’ll still help you, despite your answer. Just know that our interests may conflict. Compromise will more than likely be required.”

“That’s fine. Thank you,” Eri said. She frowned, sadness reflected in her words. “You’ve all seen the video. You’re the ones that broadcasted it after all. The way the killer was acting… that’s not how Ruyaki is. It’s so different from the way he acts that I’d say it wasn’t him if he hadn’t disappeared. I… I don’t think that it was really him!”

Through Mie-chan, Eri’s voice cracked. It amplified what little noise was coming from her real throat. It was a sound of holding in tears.

“I—no, _we_ want to know what happened,” Eri continued. “Ruyaki meant a lot to both Hitomi and me. He was really all we had left. So we want answers. The only real way to get those is to ask him. To find out why he changed so much and left us. And if he doesn’t want anything to do with us…”

“We want a chance to say goodbye,” Hitomi finished. Her voice could barely pass a whisper, but it was still something. “That’s all we want. So Kusanagi-san, Yata-san, _please_—” Hitomi squeezed her fingers against Eri’s again, and they spoke together:

_“Please help us.”_

Yata seemed to be suppressing some emotion of his own, so he only looked to Kusanagi for input. The bartender gave an almost awkward smile. “I thought I already said we would still help you no matter your reasons,” he assured. “Not to mention that your reasons are justified. We’d be monsters to turn you down after all that.”

Kusanagi pulled an ashtray from under the bar on the counter and placed a cigarette in his mouth. Hitomi, assuming that it was okay, pulled her own pack out of her pocket. She flicked her wrist and took the foremost cigarette between her lips. Kusanagi procured a lighter to set its end alight.

The drag Hitomi was able to take was terribly relaxing.

“I told you my age; are you sure you should be letting a minor smoke, Kusanagi?” she asked with a smirk. It was good to have her voice back.

Kusanagi only shook his head, exhaling a thin line of smoke that widened with his smile. “I started smoking only a little bit later than you,” he said. “It’d be silly to call you out on it. But that’s not really the point here.”

The final sentence established a terse silence. Eri smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Even Mie-chan appeared to be sad in the woman’s arms. “I’ll take it that our interests actually do conflict, Kusanagi-san?”

The bartender’s smile dropped a bit but not completely. “Only in one respect, but I think we can definitely deal with it.” He tapped his cigarette on the edge of the ashtray. “Before I say anything, you need to understand that the person that was killed in the video was one of our members.”

Eri winced, and Hitomi felt her stomach flip over. Even with Kusanagi’s careful wording, it was still unsettling to hear that her brother had been responsible for someone’s death.

_No._ “It’s not him,” Hitomi forced out. “Something had to have happened. Nii-san would never kill anyone.”

Yata scoffed beside her. “Then explain why Totsuka-san’s dead,” he said. Hitomi felt her teeth grind into the end of her cigarette. If she wasn’t careful, she would probably bite the filter in half. “If that’s not your brother then who is it?”

“Not now, Yata,” Kusanagi said, dropping off the friendly honorific. The teenager backed up a bit but didn’t stop glaring. “They said part of their reason was to find that out, right?” Yata folded his arms across his chest, expression nearing a pout. It didn’t make Hitomi any less angry at him. Eri placed a soothing hand on the younger girl’s shoulder.

“Assuming that the killer and the brother are different,” Kusanagi continued, “managing this will be easy. Worst case scenario, the two are the same. In that event, we will let you two talk with him first. However, after that, you’ll understand if we choose to take him into our own hands.”

“So what will you do then?” Hitomi asked. Eri grimaced.

“We’ll interrogate him. We’re searching for answers, too, after all. And once we get them—”

“We’ll kill him,” Yata said, radiating anger. “_I’ll_ kill him. I’ll kill him as many times as it takes. I’ll make him pay for what he did to Totsuka-san. For what he did to all of us. We’ve all suffered and he needs to pay for every ounce of it.”

“Even at the price for making others feel the same thing?” Hitomi snarled. “It hurt you because he was one of your members, right? Almost like family? Well he’s my brother and Nee-san’s boyfriend. You’ll just be hurting us the same as you, right?! Fuck that! If you do that then you’ll be no fucking different!”

“What the hell was that, bitch?!” Yata stood up, stepping towards her. “Don’t pretend like you understand _anything_ that happened to us!”

Hitomi let out a bark of a laugh, putting out her half-smoked cigarette “You wanna go, Yata-_chan_?” She stood up as well, retaining her height advantage over the boy. Getting into a fight would blow off way more steam than a smoke. “Then let’s fuckin’ go!”

“Before you two start to destroy my bar,” Kusanagi interrupted, “why don’t you put your energy into doing something useful?”


	6. Chapter Six: Restriction

**Reconstruction**

By: Aviantei

Chapter Six

Restriction

* * *

It appeared that Kusanagi’s idea of “something productive” involved anything that didn’t involve the destruction of his bar. Instead, he assigned Yata to go and investigate the area where the blackout had occurred looking for clues. Furthermore, in some form of team building exercise, HOMRA’s leader had requested that Hitomi go along with him.

While Eri thoroughly agreed that the teenagers should learn to at least get along with each other for the sake of finding Ruyaki, that didn’t mean she thought sending them together on their own was necessarily a good idea.

The fact that they were searching for something that had unknown power was a concern as well. Kusanagi had explained a Strain upon prompting. It was a term used to refer to a person—or animals, something about a horse—that had special powers. The current Strain appeared to have some power over electricity, which was the probable reason for the blackout.

Hitomi had been improving, but she was still prone to fights. And if the opponent happened to be someone with power, she would want to fight them even more. Sure, she would have Yata as some weird form of backup if the opponent was a threat to HOMRA. It still didn’t change the fact that it would be running a risk. But…

“We just can’t let someone that might be a potential lead fall into the hands of SCEPTER4,” Kusanagi had said.

Eri couldn’t argue with that logic.

Even so, that didn’t mean she could just let Hitomi go out on her own. Especially not when either teenager could get into a brawl with each other just as likely as with an actual opponent. Eri could allow for the two to deal with each other otherwise, and only intervene if they were at risk. With luck, the forced interaction would form some sort of toleration.

And if it didn’t… Eri hoped that Kusanagi would be willing to understand. Of course, the smile he had given as the two teens headed out the door, glaring daggers at each other, gave Eri the feeling like he was encouraging them to battle. As long as it wasn’t in the bar, a fight didn’t seem to be his concern at all.

Eri sighed silently. Kusanagi may have been nice, but he was almost scary at times. If trusting him wasn’t the only option at this point, she might have reconsidered the options. Hearing that HOMRA would probably kill Ruyaki—what was left of Ruyaki anyway—made the decision harder. But she had promised Hitomi that they wouldn’t stop until they got answers, so sticking around was what had to be done.

She wasn’t going to be weak anymore. That was Eri’s determination.

While it didn’t go as quickly as trips with Urumana-san, finding their way to the desired location didn’t take much time. Yata-san knew the area well enough, so he was able to direct the group based off the small, frozen image of a news report holograph coming from his watch. Double checking one last time, Yata held his arm up, comparing the representation to the reality.

“Looks like this is it,” he said. Eri, fallen back to silence, nodded her approval. Hitomi scowled but didn’t disagree. The area was cleared out of much activity, the expected crowds and police cars already gone. Eri pursed her lips.

“I don’t like this,” Hitomi said, projecting the other girl’s thoughts on accident. “There was a blackout and someone got hurt. It was only a little bit ago, right?” She looked around, scanning the area. Watching made Eri feel nervous.

“Yeah, about an hour ago.” Yata looked at a crosswalk, its signal counting down until it changed. “If that’s lit up, the outage is probably over. And the news said the girl that got hurt was already sent to the hospital.” He shrugged, tapping the end of his metal bat on his shoulder. “If the cops are gone, that makes it easier to look around.”

Hitomi nodded. “True enough,” she said. “Which building did they find her at?”

Yata pointed with his bat. “That one.” Eri suppressed a smile. They were actually having a civil conversation, and Hitomi was talking on her own. It just showed how a common goal could unite people.

“Well, time’s a wastin’, let’s go,” Hitomi said, walking towards the building’s entrance. Eri followed close behind. “The sooner we get this out of the way, the sooner we can get back to finding Nii-san. Come on, Yata-chan, don’t drag your feet.”

“Who the hell gave you permission to call me that?!” Yata shouted. He rolled on his skateboard and stopped in front of Hitomi, blocking the way. “I’m older than you! Not to mention HOMRA’S helping you! Show some goddamn respect!”

Hitomi blinked, surprise etched on her face, “There’s no way.” She smirked. “Still waiting on your growth spurt, eh? Must be hard to play the part of a big, bad gang member when you’re constantly being mistaken for an elementary student.”

The two teenagers locked each other into glares before tossing insults at each other. Eri sighed, navigating functions on her phone. While their creativity was impressive, it wasn’t productive. The woman shoved her phone between the two, and both recoiled from the holographic clock that appeared in front of their faces.

_We don’t have time for this._ Eri hoped that the message was clear enough.

She also hoped that Kusanagi-san knew what he was doing.

Hitomi grinned in a way that was apologetic. “Sorry, sorry,” she said. “Nee-san’s right, Yata-chan. We really should get going. Don’t want any of our leads to get away.”

Yata didn’t answer, only wheeled on his skateboard to the building. Hitomi stuck out her tongue at the boy’s back. Eri rolled her eyes, waving a hand to encourage her sister to keep moving. The inside of the building was clean enough, brightly lit. One ride in an elevator and a walk up a set of stairs allowed the door to the roof to be opened.

It was peaceful. There was a light breeze, pushing at Eri’s hair and faint strands of Hitomi’s. A vague noise of the crowds in the distance was the only noise to be heard. The air was cold. The sky was blue. Life was as it should be, like an accident had never happened.

The calm made Eri feel uneasy.

“Man, they sure took a beating over there,” Hitomi said, looking at the other roof. A hand shielded her eyes from the sunlight. Part of the adjacent building’s railing was completely missing. There was a bit of blood on their own roof, a faint trail leading to a darker stain. Hitomi’s boot tapped the mark’s surface. “You think they’d clean this up. Just what the hell happened?”

“The Strain’s gone,” said Yata. He turned to the other roof. “They probably bailed when the cops got called. No way we’ll find ‘em hanging around here now.”

Eri considered the options. Finding the Strain wasn’t that impossible if they had a witness. Kusanagi had made it sound like finding the Strain wasn’t _necessary_, but it could still be useful. So she wouldn’t have to make Mie-chan speak too loud, she stepped away from the doorway.

She stopped when a hand was put on her shoulder. Mie-chan conveyed a gasp before falling to the ground.

“A woman…?” The voice was lazy, bored even, but Eri still felt a sense of threat. It was far too terrifying for a voice like that. The voice’s owner clicked his tongue, and Eri winced. “Two women and… _Ehh?_”

Eri didn’t think she could be any more scared; she was wrong. If boredom caused fear, then hearing interest shot her beyond something that could be defined as any form of “terror.” Her breath was rushed, her heart beat too fast, and her whole body shook.

“You know you shouldn’t be here… _Misaki_.”

* * *

Sitting in her hospital bed, Nakahara Minenai wanted to trash her hospital room. It wouldn’t accomplish anything, it wouldn’t be productive, and it certainly wouldn’t get her out of the hospital any quicker. But it would be something to do, something that could use up energy and get her frustrations out. She would have been just fine if Sparky hadn’t blown up in her face and knocked her out.

“At least it was just your submissive arm that got broken,” Momoko commented, smiling at the bedside. Her words called attention to the cast on Minenai’s right arm, a broken bone that she could have walked off if _she hadn’t passed out._

“That’s not the damn problem,” she growled, hitting her head against the backboard of the bed. Except the nurse had piled up a mountain of pillows behind her so Minenai’s skull hit that instead. It was nowhere near the satisfying _thunk_ she had desired, and that only pissed her off more. “Getting my bones set does _nothing_ for me. It just makes it worse when I gotta fix it myself.”

“Still, it’s pretty impressive that a brat like that could score a one-hit K.O. on Nakahara-san,” Yoshiro commented, nodding in appreciaition. Minenai scowled at him, wishing her power was better suited for offensive purposes. If she had her way she would have kicked him in the gut with her heels still on, then dug the end into his stomach. The fact that a nurse may come in at any minute to discharge her was the only thing stopping the impulse, and Minenai was ready to let all hell break loose just for the sake of teaching Yoshiro a lesson. “Hey, Sato-kun, Sato-chan, what do you think?”

Sitting on the guest couch were two young kids, just barely thirteen, sitting back to back, legs propped on the armrests. They each held a handheld gaming console in their hands—hell if Minenai knew which brand—but looked up when they were addressed.

“She’s lost her touch,” Takehiko said.

“She keeps getting too impatient,” Ayaka agreed.

Yoshiro laughed like they were the cutest things in the world. Minenai wanted to rip their throats out. Just as she was about to send a stream of profanities their way, Momoko spoke up.

“Speaking of Newa-san, how is he?” the girl asked, looking to Minenai for a report. “I understand that his powers have been surging in and out of control and he’s too stubborn, but don’t you think you’re being too harsh on him, Minenai? I know I’m not up to strength to talk to him but—”

“Absolutely not,” Minenai interjected before a lecture could start. “The way I’m handling him is just fine, there’s no need to even send you anywhere near him, especially if he’s pushing his attacks at other people now. Besides, the attitude I’m giving him is the same way I was told to deal with my powers, and it’s the same way you were told Momoko.”

Momoko winced, just the tiniest bit, but gave a nervous laugh afterwards. “Yes, but you’re a completely different person than Newa-san is, and so am I, Minenai.”

Minenai frowned, knowing the conversation was getting nowhere. Noticing the silence, Yoshiro cleared his throat and spoke up. “Well, clearly we should change our tactics,” he said. Minenai went to protest, but he held up a hand to stop her. “All debates on strategies aside, SCEPTER4 is already pursuing him. If we don’t take him in and train him to control his powers before things get worse, he’s as good as detained for the next few years.”

“SCEPTER4’s a pain,” Ayaka said.

“If they come in we’re not going near them,” Takehiko stated.

“No one’s asking you to fight SCEPTER4,” Momoko interjected, her voice hurried. “If they show up you two can escape, but right now if we do things right, you won’t have to worry about them at all. Why don’t you help us think of some plans so we can avoid it?”

The Sato twins both lowered their consoles and moved so they could look at each other. After a moment they nodded in unison, though no one could tell what they were thinking. A moment later they were back to playing their games like nothing had even been asked of them.

“I don’t care, SCEPTER4 can kiss my ass,” Minenai said. “I’m getting sick of those little punks carrying us off like we’re criminals. If they get anywhere near any of us, Sparky included, we beat the shit out of them and send them in a box to their supervisors.”

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea…” Momoko said.

“Regardless,” Yoshiro interrupted, “what we’re coming up with is irrelevant until we think things through properly. So the real question is what does the boss think?”

Everyone was forced to shut up, even Minenai. The only sound left in the room was the twins tapping away at their consoles, which died down after a few seconds. All of the Strains in the room were looking in one direction, the exception being the one they were all staring at.

“I think,” said Shinichiro, “that maybe it’s time we let Ayumu use her powers.”

* * *

Fujioka Goro sighed with impatience on the monorail, wishing it would hurry up and get to the next stop already. While it was a beautiful view from the window, he had taken this ride and many like it around Shizume city in the past that there wasn’t anything else left for him to take pictures of that would interest him like it had before. He should really take a trip down to the riverbank that hosted the supports of the track and take some pictures from there. Maybe that would be interesting enough.

A trip like that would have to wait until later, if there was even time for that. Goro had been busy at work for days on end, with new assignments piling up all the time as he raced from room to room to forever record the progress that they were making. This was his first outing that didn’t involve the trip from his housing to work in _weeks_, and it was _still_ for an assignment. At least his job was one that tended to his hobbies, which was why he had even agreed to join up in the first place.

Ultimately unable to resist, Goro slipped out his camera from its case, attaching the zoom lens. Even though such technology had been outdated years ago, Goro still enjoyed using it. This particular lens had been a gift from his father, the only thing left that was a reminder that the older Fujioka had even existed, aside from a collection of pictures buried in some album somewhere.

Ashinaka Gakuen. It was a beautiful school, no matter how many times Goro saw it. It was the same view, the same angles, the same buildings, but it was still breathtaking. Maybe the fact that some of the buildings had been rebuilt after the recent incident was what had replenished its charm, but Goro wasn’t entirely sure if that was the case. Regardless, he kept clicking the shutter, setting his camera off over and over again as it captured the image of the school buildings shining in the sunlight.

A few passengers on the other side of the train started talking about him, saying things like “Check out that freak” and “What’s he even doing, anyway?” Goro turned up the flash on his camera to the highest setting and took a picture of them. The image of their disgusted and surprised faces graced his digital screen a few seconds later, and he went back to what he was doing. The pictures he kept taking barely changed, just held the image of the school that was slowly drawing closer, barely noticeable in each frame. By the time they almost got to the stop, Goro had collected enough footage to make a small and rather uneventful movie.

The passengers disembarked the train, and Goro slung his camera bag over his shoulder. He took a few pictures of the hubbub of people, but quickly stopped. The cluster of passengers just didn’t have any real life to them, and the pictures were deleted almost immediately. It was funny, because he had taken _thousands_ of pictures like that only a year ago, and they were still beautiful to him. What was the difference, what had made the crowds of people in the photographs he took now lose their touch?

Furthermore, why was a guy like him that hated things that never changed so obsessed with capturing pictures that would never change, _could_ never change, aside from the wear and tear that the passage of time put on them?

Reminding himself that he had work to do, Goro forced himself to walk as he took pictures of the academy as it got closer. His steps naturally made the shots look shaky, amateurish, even with all the technology that had been developed to prevent such things, but he liked that about them. Goro quickly decided that he was getting tired of the idea of “the perfect picture” anyway. Saying that there was a perfect version of something only meant that things that were less than perfect had no worth. He spit on the grass before heading up the sidewalk to the entrance.

Watching a few students enter, Goro quickly remembered that the security had been bumped up in the past few weeks. Inversely, Goro hadn’t updated his own credentials in months. Taking a chance he walked up to the gates, tapping his camera against the sensor where students set their ID. The system let him through anyway, wielding easily as he passed. The technology still worked. Setsuko was a genius.

Goro paused when he reached the courtyard, snapping pictures as he went. The mass amounts of damage that still haunted him for not being able to pictures of were gone, no traces that they had ever happened. Why did the Blue Clan have to be so damn _efficient_? He made himself feel better by taking pictures of some of the students; the uniform was definitely one of the best things about this place, that was for sure.

Goro slipped his camera back into his pocket, adjusted his glasses, put on his best smile, and headed over the girl he had just taken pictures of.

“Excuse me, ojou-chan, could I impose on you enough to ask some questions?”


	7. Chapter Seven: Remains IV

**Reconstruction**

By: Aviantei

Chapter Seven

Remains IV

* * *

For Yukizome Kukuri, life had been good. All things considered, she had had a normal childhood, one without much incident. There were the loving parents, the hours spent at school, the friends, the cramming to get into a good high school, and make it onto the student council no less. The most out of the ordinary things that had ever happened to her were when she broke her arm during a gymnastics routine in elementary school (and consequently never touched the sport again) and when she had been confessed to into front of the whole school by a classmate from the top of her high school’s clock tower (which she still flushed deeply at any time someone even got close to referring to it).

But that all was past her. Since the school festival had been wrapped up a few weeks beforehand, life was once again relatively normal. Kukuri still had responsibilities to hold with the Student Council, but her schoolwork and social life blissfully passed by without the slightest indication of ever getting any more hectic until the next big holiday or festival showed up. Valentine’s Day didn’t count, since Kukuri had no intentions of making anything besides some friendship chocolate for Sumika and the members of the Student Council, and she _certainly_ wasn’t going to leave herself vulnerable to another confession out of nowhere. If another one happened like it had back in December, Kukuri was going to hole herself up in her dorm room and never come out even after she graduated.

And in her seventeen years of ordinary life, Kukuri had accepted it. She wasn’t anything too positive or too negative. All in all, her existence was average, nothing to be noted of at all, other than some statistics about the population of Japan in some textbook way in the future. That was the existence she was set to live, and Yukizome Kukuri faced it head on and didn’t look back. Even with the incident in December accounted for, she had no regrets.

Which was why the dreams were starting to bother her. Before when Kukuri had dreamed, it was of everyday life, like going out to eat with her friends or maybe some project the Student Council was putting together. Every now and then, but it was very rarely, she would dream of being a kid again, going to the park with her parents, making friends on the playground, all in her blissful childhood ignorance.

The first unusual dream had occurred after the festival had finished, when the school had been cleaned up spectacularly, good as new. In her dream there were people she had never met before but were hanging out with her anyway, dressed in costumes and practicing for the festival. What had bothered her was that she was dreaming of people she had never talked to like she had always known them. Whenever she dreamed of people she had never met or didn’t exist, they had never been so active, so vibrant, so _alive_. She had woken up in a cold sweat, names on her tongue that she couldn’t remember how to pronounce but could taste that they had been there.

And it didn’t stop there. The girl in her dreams had mannerisms like a cat, and could even turn into one. One of the boys carried a real sword disguised by his period era costume and pulled it out more than once to fight. Entire groups of people with strange powers, flashing in red and blue, fought over the school grounds, tearing it apart. Sometimes even Kukuri was different, an entirely different person as she chased after others, laughing and dancing and never making up her mind if what kind of person she was supposed to be. Most unnerving was the boy that always smiled at her, made her feel like they had known each other for years, then had simply disappeared.

This was all such a shock from what she had normally experienced, that Kukuri didn’t know what to do. She still slept normally, but the dreams bothered her in a completely different way. She was certain nothing had happened to her that would make her dreams change too drastically, so then why had the change happened in the first place? Curiosity was driving her more than anything, alongside with one thought.

_I want my normal life back._

Kukuri was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn’t even notice the man until he was right in front of her, and that was only because he had talked. With a simple request of “Excuse me, ojou-chan, could I impose on you enough to ask some questions?” Kukuri’s head whipped up to see the person in question, a man about in his early twenties with light purple hair that was long enough to be pulled back into a ponytail. He had a bag on his shoulders, a camera in his hands, and a smile on his face. “I’m Fujioka Goro, a freelance photographer. A client has asked me to take some pictures here, but I’m afraid I don’t know my way around like I used to. Could I impose on you enough to show me the way?”

He shoved a business card into her hands, confirming his occupation, alongside his contact information. Taken aback, Kukuri had to pause and think for a moment before smiling, resorting to her usual self. “I wouldn’t mind, but I’m certain you need to clear these things with the principal first…” she said.

Fujioka smile only grew wider, and he winked at Kukuri. “Of course I’ve already been approved. That’s how I got my pass to get in here.” The logic made Kukuri feel silly for not thinking of it herself, and she nodded. “Now, the place I’m headed for is a monument that’s been put up recently. Do you know the one?”

“Yes I do; it’s right this way.” Kukuri started out with her walk, Fujioka following close behind her. His camera kept going off, and she wondered if that was part of the job, too, or if he just really wanted to.

_Either way, he must really love photography._

The silence was starting to get to her. Kukuri was naturally a social girl, so not saying anything wasn’t an experience she was used to having. She put on her best smile, even though Fujioka was trailing behind her. “So, Fujioka-san, you said you haven’t been here in a while. Did you used to go to school here?”

The camera stopped clicking. Kukuri looked back over her shoulder, Fujioka having a contemplative look on his face. “Ah, I guess you could say that,” he said. “I went a lot of places during my school years, and was here for a while. Although, in all honesty, I was referring to the last time I had a job here, um… sorry, I didn’t catch your name, ojou-chan.”

“Yukizome Kukuri.”

“Alrighty then, Yukizome-chan.” Fujioka properly lowered his camera, walking up to where Kukuri was, matching her pace. “Now, if you don’t mind me asking some questions myself, I have a few. Could it be that you were involved in the incident that occurred here a few months ago? You see, I’ve been looking into it and was looking for some records of what happened. The restoration on this place is as beautiful as ever, by the way. Yukizome-chan, are you alright?”

Kukuri had stopped walking. Fujioka came to a halt beside her, a concerned look on his face. In her own self-induced panic, she thought she saw the man playing with his camera, but knew that couldn’t be the case. For a moment, Kukuri was certain she remembered something, then realized what she was remembering was part of her dreams. She pushed the thoughts out of her mind and continued walking.

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about, sorry,” she said. “We should keep going, though, we’re almost there.” The woods on campus was getting closer, the location of the memorial that Fujioka was looking for. Kukuri didn’t know what it was for—some benefactor to the school no doubt—so she hadn’t gone to see it after it was put up. All she knew was that it had gone up, unnaturally fast, almost overnight.

Fujioka pursed his lips a little, but ended up smiling seconds later. “My bad, I was thinking about a different place, a few towns over. I was busy here, so I missed going to see it,” he said. “There’s just so much going on and I get sent all over the place, so I mix places up sometime. Sorry to bother you, Yukizome-chan.” His camera was poised again, taking pictures of the woods. Kukuri didn’t see what was so interesting about them, but there must have been something. Being a freelancer, it was probably a benefit to have pictures of all sorts of things. Some client or another would want photographs of nature one day, and he would already have them, saving a trip.

A path had been built through the woods, breaking off from where an already existing path had been laid. You could see the difference and know where to turn, just based off the age of the stones. They stopped for a short break, sitting on the stairs, Kukuri resting whilst Fujioka remained snapping away, his camera capturing endless image after image. He only stopped once to switch out memory sticks, which made Kukuri stare in fascination. Nowadays the data could carry thousands, sometimes _millions_ of pictures. The fact that he even had backup storage on him to consider he would run out of space said something.

The path led to a clearing in the woods, the memorial in the middle. It was nothing dramatic, just a simple gravestone in the middle of a bunch of trees, hidden away from the world. The fact that it was on its own, a one man graveyard, made it seem lonely, and probably scary if it had been dark enough. Fujioka snapped one picture before he moved forward, paying his respects to the dead. Kukuri, not wanting to be rude, did the same.

She tried to keep her eyes closed, send up a prayer, but ended up reading the gravestone instead. She almost wished she hadn’t. The dates scribbled at the bottom indicated that he had died young, only twenty-four. Kukuri would be that old in less than seven years, and she couldn’t imagine d and she couldn'he bottom indicated that he had died young, only twenty-four. Kukuri would be that old in less than sying that soon. All things considered she had barely started life, dying being the last thing on her mind. She felt reminded of her mortality. It was depressing. She tried to focus, to see if she could find out why he had died, but only learned his name from staring down the gravestone.

_Suoh Mikoto._ Then above it, in English: _No blood, no bone, no ash._

Kukuri was shocked out of her thoughts by the sound of Fujioka’s camera going off. She took a few steps back, wanting to avoid the lens and ruining his work. As she sat on the sidelines, she looked at the whole scenario from a distance. Fujioka was going photo crazy, as if this was some tourist attraction or performance that would never be the same exact way ever again. One he was done, Fujioka turned to the lamps on either side that Kukuri hadn’t taken notice of before.

First the man checked inside them, putting his camera and bag down for once. He went back to the edge of the woods, gathering sticks. He filled both the lanterns up, setting the kindling inside to flames with a lighter he had stowed away inside his pocket. When he was done, he went back to taking pictures again.

As much as she didn’t want to think about it, the place was probably pretty at night.

“Did you know him?” Kukuri finally asked, the question that had been blinking in and out of her mind finally coming to her lips. Even after walking most of the way back out of the woods, it had taken until just now to get the words out. Fujioka walked beside her, raising an eye brow at the question. It seemed he was satisfied for now, the camera back in his bag for the first time since he had introduced himself. “Suoh Mikoto-san?”

“Ah, Suoh-san…” Fujioka made a face like he was thinking, searching for a memory. “Nope, can’t say I did. I meet a lot of people in a job like mine, but Suoh-san was never one of them. The person that sent me here to take those pictures, though, they apparently knew him personally. Or at least it seemed that way.”

The casual way he was discussing a dead man’s affairs made Kukuri feel a little nervous, but her curiosity won out in the end. “Seemed that way?”

“Well, yeah. People don’t just go around broadcasting how they really feel about others all the time. There are people who are truly honest with their emotions, but those people are rare.” Fujioka gave a small smile, almost as if he was indicating Kukuri. Her cheeks warmed up a bit. “The majority of people are willing to lie straight through the teeth if it will give a better impression of themselves. It’s sort of like whenever a girl or a guy gives a story about the breakup. If they were doing the dumping, they try to make it seem like the other person’s the problem. If they were getting dumped, they try and make it sound like the other person’s the bad guy, or like they were planning to do it themselves. So when people talk about their relationships with others, they can sometimes say they knew a person personally to make it seem less strange that they know things about them, you know?”

Kukuri didn’t know, but the torrent of words was too much for her to handle. She nodded like she understood anyway, hoping it would make the flow of the conversation easier.

“I guess what I’m saying is that maybe my client knew Suoh-san personally, or maybe they even know a lot about him. There’s also the chance that they never met him in their life, and just said they did so they would have a reason to request pictures of his memorial. Maybe it’s because I constantly take pictures and get still images of the world, I know you can’t take things at face value. The way something is in one moment will never be the exact way it is in the next. The only way you can know a person is to be that person, and sometimes not even then. The only way you can understand the relationship between two people is to be both of these things at the same time. Since we obviously can’t do that, truly understanding someone else by just the way we see them is damn near impossible. Ah, not that anything I’m saying here is slander against the guy who’s hired me.”

Fujioka looked over to his one-sided conversation partner, searching for a reaction. Kukuri put up her hands in protest, waving them in front of her face. “No, of course not!” she exclaimed. “I wasn’t thinking that at all. After all, I don’t even know who it is that you’re working for. Not that I’m asking!” For some reason she was getting too worked up. Kukuri took a few deep breaths to calm herself.

Fujioka let out a laugh, but it didn’t seem to be directed at her. “It’s a good trait to be so trusting of people,” he said. “Although, what’s considered to be ‘good’ and what’s considered to be ‘best for you’ are two different things. Some people do say that being too trusting isn’t a good thing because it makes you miss the bad in others. But at the same time society values the people that have these goods traits.”

Kukuri frowned, but took a shot at unraveling his logic. “Are you saying that I shouldn’t trust you?”

“No, no, why would I say something like that? That wouldn’t do very well with saving myself face, which as a businessman that relies solely on the good impressions I leave on others, I can’t just talk myself down. Besides, then I’d just be assuming that you are a person that trusts others too much, and that’s not a very fair assumption of you considering we just met. You could be a completely different person and just being kind to me because I’m a stranger.”

Memories of running, dancing, shouting intentions to the sky. Having conversations with herself in a dream world where hundreds of other people she didn’t recognize existed. _A completely different person._ Kukuri did her best to shake the thoughts off.

“If you don’t mind me saying, you sure do have a complicated view of the world, Fujioka-san.”

Fujioka chuckled again, eyes shining behind his glasses. “I wouldn’t argue with you on that one, Yukizome-chan.”

“I know what you said means you don’t assume things about others, but I can’t help but be curious.” Kukuri mentally steeled herself, hoping she could get the right words out to get a straight enough answer. “Don’t you still make impressions of people even without knowing them properly?”

“Of course I do,” Fujioka said without hesitation. “I’m only human after all. We take the little things we see and make them reality. Especially in my case as a photographer.” He pulled his camera out of his bag, flipping through the still images of the shrine in the forest. “The way you and I and my client view this picture will be completely different based on our knowledge, and the same applies to how we look at reality. We can’t help that, Yukizome-chan; it’s just the way that life is.

“After all, I can’t help that think that if a guy like that ended up with a special memorial on a private school like this, there can’t help but be people who care for him out there.”

That was the last thing Fujioka said before they stepped out of the woods. He turned around, snapped a picture of what had to be Kukuri’s confused expression, and headed back towards the school grounds, probably to leave. Kukuri was left standing there, not knowing what to say, without the energy to go after Fujioka as he disappeared from her vision.

The name Suoh Mikoto left a bad taste in her mouth without her even having to say it.


	8. Chapter Eight: Retaliation I

**Reconstruction**

By: Aviantei

Chapter Eight

Retaliation I

* * *

Hitomi turned around at the sound of the voice, surveying its owner. He was tall, towering over Eri, with black hair that fell into his face and glasses. His blue uniform denoted him as a member of SCEPTER4, trying Hitomi’s already fried out patience. She was torn between the urge to tear the guy’s throat out for touching her sister and laughing at her reluctant teammate’s given name. The hesitation from this conflict gave _Misaki_ enough time to react first.

“I’ll go wherever I damn well please, _Saru_,” the boy snapped. He started to play with his bat, in small movements that Hitomi could recognize as gearing up for a fight. She adjusted her own stance accordingly, getting the tension of her muscles before it could get in the way. “I also believe that I’ve told you my feeling about using my name like that enough times. So instead of explaining it again I’m just gonna bash your fuckin’ skull in and get it over with!”

The man referred to as Saru only shook his head. He still hadn’t released his grip on Eri, which was the only thing that was keeping Hitomi in place. If this was going to turn into a combat situation, Eri could be made a hostage in no time, rendering Hitomi useless. She couldn’t say the same for Misaki, but if his stupidity ended in Eri getting harmed in the slightest bit… _Well, I can’t exactly guarantee that I won’t do something that renders this temporary alliance useless._

“Tsk, tsk, Misaki, no need to be so violent,” Saru scolded. “I’m just letting you know that you shouldn’t be here and giving you a chance to get out before things get… unfortunate…” Hitomi thought she saw his hand tighten on Eri’s shoulder, a threatening gesture. She was too far away to tell if he was really looking at Misaki or her.

Oblivious to the threat, or maybe just not caring, Misaki took a few steps forward. He wasn’t even bothering to conceal his stance anymore, the intent to fight practically radiating of him. “Funny, ‘cause I don’t see a damn thing here that’s telling us we need to leave.”

“I’m hurt. I’m telling you as much, aren’t I? This is a SCEPTER4 investigation after all, and HOMRA doesn’t have anything to do with it. I honestly can’t believe how dense you are anyway, _Mi-sa-ki._”

Hitomi was tempted to reason with Misaki—which frankly blew her mind; she never reasoned with anyone; that was Eri’s job—to tell him that he was being baited, that he was giving this Saru guy an excuse to ditch whatever job he had to do and get into a fight. The problem was that when she looked at Misaki, she could tell he knew that already. On top of that, his energy was different, contrasting heavily from her own attempts at baiting him inside the bar. He was serious, the red aura seeping out of his skin, and this was _personal_.

Well, nothing that could be done about that. That just meant it was Hitomi’s job to make Eri safe once the fighting started. She sized up the opponent, vowing for her eyes to never leave him until she could find an opening. Saru’s hand reached for this sword, beginning to draw it before the next words could even leave Misaki’s mouth.

“_Fuck you!_”

“Fushimi, ready for emergency combat!”

Misaki pushed off on his skateboard, his aura giving him an extra burst of speed. Saru still had his hand on Eri’s shoulder, shoving Eri behind him. The woman hit against the door to the stairwell, maintaining her balance as she propped herself up against it. Misaki jumped, his skateboard connecting with Saru’s sword, coated in its own blue aura.

They held that position for several seconds, sizing each other up. It was the most infuriating formality that Hitomi had ever seen, mostly because she just wanted a way around the fight and didn’t have time for this.

Her wish was granted. Saru pushed Misaki off, the latter landing on his skateboard, crouched down to minimize his target space, bat poised and at the ready. Saru charged after him, providing Hitomi with the opening she wanted. The girl stayed on the edge of the building, circling around the fight, and breaking into a proper run once Saru’s back was turned. She almost fell on top of Eri to protect her, scraping up Mie-chan in the process.

“Okay, you get out of here,” Hitomi said. Her voice was rushed, breathless. She tried to ignore the adrenaline coursing through her veins, threatening to distract her. “You can get down the stairs and I’ll make sure he doesn’t follow you. If you can make it to Kusanagi-san, then we can call in some backup.” As an afterthought, Hitomi shoved the cat plush into her sister’s arms.

“Absolutely not,” Eri retorted, her voice restored. The woman was glaring, her stubborn side in full bloom. “I’m not leaving you behind, Hitomi, so don’t even think about it.”

Hitomi glanced over her shoulder to the fight still raging on. It was like a pre-choreographed scene in a movie, except the boys happened to know each other’s styles so well that they could easily predict the next move without even having to think of it. The fact that they had fought so much in the past made Hitomi wonder, but this was certainly not the time.

“Nee-san, you need to listen to me. That man is dangerous. I’m sure he’s already figured out that you can’t fight very well and is just waiting for an opportunity to hurt you.”

Eri, unexpectedly, didn’t back down at the logic. “And you’ve made that fairly obvious to him by rushing to protect me,” she said. Everything in her tone was hard, and Hitomi winced at her own mistake. “If I don’t back down, I can at least provide support, Hitomi-chan. And if you were serious about me getting for help you would have just asked me to call Kusanagi-san since you already know I have his number.”

“But I just—” She stopped when Mie-chan’s paw was in her face, lightly hitting against her nose.

“Hitomi, please, can you stop worrying about me for a second? If you keep turning your back to the enemy like this he’s certain to get a one-up on you. If you’re so worried about me, I promise to retreat if anything happens to you.” Eri gave a small smile, a mischievous glint in her eye. “I trust you enough to not let that happen, though.”

Hitomi considered everything Eri had just said. Why had she even bothered to suggest something like getting backup? She never wanted backup. She had fought against the odds before, taking down guys that outnumbered and outranked her in brute strength. She may have been a little worn for wear afterwards, but who cared? She would always win. And when it came down to it here, it was a fight against one guy that she even had someone to fight with this time.

_What, am I scared or something? Is this guy just that strong? Or am I just too stubborn to accept help in a fight I didn’t even start? Is the idea of fighting with someone on my side really enough to make me hesitate?_

_Well fuck that, there’s no time to be picky about this!_

While her body was itching to just charge in, Hitomi made herself wait. She watched Misaki and Saru exchange their perfectly timed blows, back and forth until her eyes got sick of it. While the two boys probably weren’t showing off every single move in their arsenal, it was enough to find a good place to slip into the fight. Hitomi waited for a moment when Saru’s back was turned before running.

All of her pent up energy gave her a good burst of speed, pushing her on. After a few steps almost stiffened from the tension, Hitomi could feel herself giving into instinct already, her body almost acting on its own. She aimed a kick for Saru’s head.

The SCEPTER4 member was faster then she had given him credit for. Just as her boot was about to connect with its target, Saru whipped around, his sword blocking the blow, encased with blue aura. Misaki took the opportunity, swinging his bat for the same target that Hitomi had chosen. While his blow didn’t connect either, Saru was left to dodge with significantly less of a margin then he had been managing beforehand.

Saru pulled back from the conflict, surveying the situation. Hitomi made sure she was a barrier between the man and Eri, Misaki getting the same idea and covering a wider range of area. The redhead was slightly out of breath, as was their enemy. Despite this, Misaki looked over to his ally and scowled.

“Took you fuckin’ long enough! How slow of a reaction time was that?!”

“Screw you!” Hitomi countered. “That’s all in the past, so it’s almost like ancient history now!”

“What grade of elementary school did you fail out of?!”

“I dropped out after you left the year beforehand. It was just so lonely without you that I couldn’t stand it.”

It was pointless banter, and Hitomi knew it. But it made her relax a little, clearing her mind of any other distracting thoughts that may come along. Misaki was on a similar level, none of the same antagonism being directed at each other. Hell, the boy was smiling. Hitomi was, too, the grin reaching across her face. For once, the fight was fun instead of an excuse to burn off frustrations.

Saru didn’t seem to be sharing the sentiment. He looked to be getting increasingly angry with every word out of their mouths. Hitomi didn’t know if that was good or bad. Some people got distracted when they were angry, others got stronger as they abandoned everything else. The situation could change a lot from here on out. In any event, Misaki didn’t seem to bat an eye.

“Now what do you both think you’re doing?” Saru asked. His voice kept its smooth tone to it, but his volume was increasing. “Honestly, Misaki, what are you doing running around with people like this? Do you think it’s gonna help you any? Do you really think you need someone else to fight me, _huh_?!”

Hitomi blinked, and Misaki let out a surprised yelp as the knives landed in front of him. Saru was charging head-on, and Hitomi got ready to intercept him the second he got any closer to Eri. The problem was that he was headed for her instead, making a high impact hit with her stomach. Misaki was stopped from advancing by the blue aura of a barrier that erupted in front of him. Hitomi tried to clutch her stomach as she fell to the ground without warning.

“What are you even doing here?!” Saru shouted. His voice was no longer low, dangerous, or mocking. It was screaming, the anger grating apart his voice further as the volume shot up. “Don’t tell me you’re the reason Misaki became worth fighting again! I won’t accept it! But if you won’t get out of here, I’ll just have to make you leave instead!”

Hitomi tried to counter-attack, aiming a sweeping kick at Saru’s feet in front of her. His sword came down, almost stabbing into her leg. She stopped her own move, pant leg suffering the damage instead, only to have Saru lift her up by her neck. He looked her, the definition of fury on his expression. It was like he was embodying the idea of wrath.

“If you insist on dragging other people into our business, Misaki, then you’re just going to have to watch what happens when you bring them places they don’t belong!” With an unbelievable amount of strength, Hitomi was sent flying, only to be stopped by the battered remains of the guardrail. A little further to the left and she would have been sent through the gap between buildings. She doubted she would be lucky enough to land on the adjacent apartment complex like the person before her had.

“And _you_,” Saru was walking toward her, but Hitomi didn’t bother to look at his face, “just who do you think you are? Who gave you the right to drag yourself into _our_ fight, huh?!”

_Shit, this is bad. He doesn’t get sharper or lose his touch when he gets angry. He becomes more forceful and… I don’t know what this is, but I don’t think I can survive it if things get bad. What am I already saying, things are already bad. So the only choice I have…_

_…is to use my trump card!_

Hitomi bore her teeth, hands gripping onto the building’s railing. Saru seemed to catch onto the movement, his eyes narrowing. His speed picked up, and Hitomi was just about fully ready to let loose, because it was now or—

“Hitomi, don’t do it!”

It was Eri, her voice screaming from Mie-chan at a volume Hitomi didn’t think was possible. Hitomi looked at her sister, the expression on Eri’s face bright and clear even though she was on the other end of the rooftop. Every rational thought that Hitomi should have abandoned already was suddenly rushing through her brain, and she lost her momentum. She tried to make a backup plan, but it was too late.

Saru was already in front of her, blades bearing down.

* * *

_“This is Fukune.”_ His superior’s voice was clipped and professional on the other end of the phone lines. It had a surprisingly calming effect, even though Nagana felt himself snapping to attention. There was probably something wrong about being your most relaxed whenever you were on duty, but he could think about that later.

“Nagana reporting,” he said.

_“Confirmed, Nagana-kun, what’s your status?”_ The sound of Fukune tapping her fingers on some hard surface or another was loud and clear, even though it should have been in the distance. Putting the thought aside, Nagana had to think a second before beginning to give his report.

“It’s confirmed that the target we thought to investigate is a Strain. However, I arrived too late to see them, and any clues as to where they’ve gone are currently unable to be investigated. It appears that we’re going to have to continue tracking the Strain through power outages until we can make any progress.”

Fukune let out a heavy sigh, clearly unsatisfied with the news. Nagana didn’t blame her; he wasn’t happy with the results either. _“I’m sure there’s some other way to keep track of the Strain, we just don’t know what it is yet,”_ Fukune said. _“Why haven’t you been able to search for any clues, Nagana-kun?”_

Nagana winced a little, hoping his superior would have missed the wording. Her hard tone indicated otherwise, and he prepared himself for a scolding if his continuing response was unsatisfactory. “The scene is currently occupied,” he started.

_“Well I don’t care. If there are cops there, pull information out of them. If they don’t cooperate, then temporarily take them out of the picture and investigate on your own. These sorts of things are supposed to be your specialty, Nagana, that’s why Tarashi-kun selected you. I don’t want to hear your excuses, so you better have a proper reason the next time you open your mouth.”_

The drop of the honorific on his name was all the motivation Nagana needed. Fukune never yelled when she was angry, only let the dissatisfaction seep into her voice. Somehow, that was scarier than any lecture or chewing out could ever be, and heaven forbid that she was actually ever angry enough to _act_ on it.

Nagana swallowed to put some moisture back in his mouth before speaking.

“The case was handed over to SCEPTER4 almost immediately,” he said, words coming out fast. Nagana made no efforts to slow down. “One of their officers is here, and is currently engaging a member of HOMRA in combat. The two women that we have been trying to get additional information on are here as well.” Fukune sucked in a breath of air, the only sound from the phone. “I also feel like it’s necessary to report that the rumor we discussed earlier is involved.”

“_Son of a bitch_,” Fukune whispered. The cussing seemed foreign coming from her voice, almost like they had been spoken by another person entirely. Nagana held his breath as he waited for a response, for orders, _anything_. _“Are you certain that’s the situation? You are one-hundred percent _certain_ that that’s what you’re seeing and nothing else,_ right, Nagana-kun?”

Nagana brought the binoculars back up to his face and looked back at the building on the opposite side of the street. It was just to double-check, but part of him wished it wasn’t true. He would even take the punishment for lying to a superior if it was false. But the view was just the same as it had been a second ago, and all parties were accounted for.

“I guarantee it.”

_“Stay put, Nagana-kun. Maintain your position,”_ Fukune said. There was a rustle on the phone line, and Fukune’s voice continued to speak, except it was too muffled for Nagana to hear anything that was being said clearly. He closed his eyes as he waited, and didn’t open them again until he was spoken to again.

_“Ah, hey there, Nagana-kun,”_ a lazy voice greeted. Even so, it sent shivers up Nagana’s spine. Only one person could manage that, meaning the person on the other line was none other than Tarashi. _“So, Fukune-san tells me you have an interesting situation going on over there. Why don’t you tell me all about it so I can send over some of your loyal teammates here to come and back up your sorry ass?”_

He said the words with something akin to joy buried deep inside his tone. Nagana repeated the same words he had told Fukune and hung up as soon as he was allowed to.


	9. Chapter Nine: Retaliation II

**Reconstruction**

By: Aviantei

Chapter Nine

Retaliation II

* * *

Hitomi tried to minimize herself, hoping she could at least take less of one of the attacks than she would otherwise. In the end she was met with a searing pain in her left arm and opposite side where Saru’s knives carved their way into her skin—the blue aura encasing the sword made the edge of the blade go wider, and the knives in her side burned like nothing she had ever felt before. She let out a small grunt, the entirety of her willpower going into making sure she didn’t scream. Whenever Saru pulled his weapons back to strike again, Hitomi could see that the knives were red from blood and the flaming red of an aura she was sure didn’t belong there.

_But that’s—_

Misaki made the next move, flying towards Saru at lightning speed on his skateboard, aura encased bat heading for the SCEPTER4 member. Saru parried the blow, and they had another short exchange just inches away from Hitomi’s face. She let out a small laugh, gaining control on her voice even though the pain was rushing through her nerve endings, sending an excruciating sensation every time she tried the slightest of movements.

“And you were criticizing me for being late, Misaki!” she said.

The boy didn’t even stop in his assault on Saru to give his retort, “Fuck you! And don’t you dare call me that!”

“Right, my bad! Except my apology, Misaki-_chan_!” With the last word, Hitomi aimed a kick for Saru’s legs from behind, which made a satisfying contact and caused the man to stumble. Whenever he started to turn to counter, Misaki took the advantage to take another swing at Saru’s exposed side. The two-on-one tactic was a bit cheap, but Hitomi wasn’t about to complain, especially when she was able to knock the knives out of Saru’s hands, lowering the danger level.

“I’ll fucking kill you when this is over!” Misaki called. Hitomi assumed it was a filler for the compliment anyone else would have given and smiled.

“Aw, Misaki-chan, I love you, too, but if you show too much public affection, people will start to get the wrong idea about what kind of person you are!”

“I swear to fucking—”

“_Enough!_” Saru shouted. The next instant there was a barrier of an aura shield slamming against Hitomi’s face, sending her skidding across the roof. She landed on her injuries more than once and thought she might pass out from the pain. Whenever she saw Misaki getting to his feet a few meters away, she forced herself to do the same. “I already told you to stay the hell out of our fight! She doesn’t belong in this, so don’t you dare go and save her, Misaki! If she can’t just stay on the sidelines like she should, then the bitch deserves to die!”

Hitomi clenched her fists, sending a distracting rush of pain into her palms. “Oh, so what, I’m just supposed to do nothing while you sit there and try to kill me?” she retorted, glaring daggers across the rooftop. “Fuck you! I get it if you and Misaki-chan have issues or some shit, but I don’t give a damn. You started interfering in my business, so it’s my fight! If you want me to stay out of whatever grudge match you two have, then fine! I’ll fight you myself!”

Hitomi knew it was a stupid, almost suicidal thing to offer. Her brain was screaming in protest, blood dripping down her arm and seeping through her clothes. Eri let out a small gasp somewhere behind Hitomi, reminding her of her stupidity even further. If she screwed up here, she wasn’t the only one that was going to pay the price, and she knew it. Even Misaki was giving her a discouraging look out of the corner of her eye, expressing caution while still making it seem like he was just calling her a dumbass. Hitomi didn’t care. She let out a small laugh.

Unlike everyone on her side, Saru seemed entirely elated by the prospect, a grin stretching across his face. He probably wanted free reign to chop her up into pieces, which he could probably accomplish in a situation like this. Not only was she injured, but Eri had already forbidden the use of the one thing that could save them now, although it wasn’t like it hadn’t been with good reason. But maybe if Misaki could take Eri and run…

_What is this supposed to be? Some sort of noble sacrifice? Since when did I even start thinking things like that were acceptable in a fight? There’s no honor in getting your ass kicked, even if it ends up helping others._ Despite that, Hitomi realized that she didn’t mind the idea at all. _Man, I must be going soft._

She took a step forward.

The sound of something heavy making an impact onto the rooftop met Hitomi’s ears, and suddenly there was a mass amount of gas heading her way, threatening to block out her vision. Saru disappeared inside the cloud, and all she could do was just stand there and watch.

“Come on!” Misaki shouted, his voice bringing her back to reality. The boy grabbed onto Hitomi’s arm, pulling her towards the stairwell, his free hand dragging Eri to her feet as they passed by. How he managed to do that while still keeping hold on his skateboard and bat flawlessly, Hitomi had no idea. “Let’s get the hell out of here while we still can!”

They entered the stairwell, and Hitomi pulled herself away from Misaki to slam the door shut behind them and locking it. From what she had seen the locks wouldn’t do much to hinder Saru, but that was fine. Often in running away a split second advantage was all you needed. Not wanting to waste that second, Hitomi bolted down the stairs after Misaki and Eri, adrenaline keeping her standing. For some reason, the stairs seemed much shorter going down than the trip up had been.

Despite the burst of energy, Hitomi could tell she wouldn’t be able to last much longer at this rate. To make matters worse Misaki and Eri were slowing their pace down to match hers. They would all be caught soon, making the advantage they had worthless. When they burst out onto the street, Hitomi was tempted to suggest they split up so that she could run a distraction, even if she knew that it would be near impossible to get Eri to agree to such a thing.

“They’ve already gotten out of the building! Let’s move!” a voice shouted. Turning her head towards it, Hitomi could see a group of four people running towards them, an obvious teamwork vibe coming off of them. The street was empty of anyone otherwise, meaning the people they were after was more than likely the group Hitomi was a part of.

She ran a hand down her face in exasperation. Some of the blood on her arm was left behind after the gesture. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

Misaki acted first—_again_, she was really going to have to do something about that—heading off in the opposite direction of their pursuers. He still had his hold on Eri, so she followed without much difficulty. Hitomi took a second to catch up, but by that point Misaki had already come to a stop. Hitomi was plenty ready to complain until she saw the figure walking into the street to block their path. The most infuriating part was that she recognized the roadblock, and immediately had no other desire than to kick the man over. Misaki seemed in perfect agreement to that, his bat already prepared to swing. The look on Eri’s face indicated that she thought otherwise but wasn’t willing to speak up, leaving the job to Hitomi.

“_Urumana-san_,” the girl said through gritted teeth. Misaki relaxed his stance a little, but only enough so that he didn’t look like he was going to smack someone in the face with his bat at any second, but still could if he wanted to. Despite the unfriendly atmosphere, Urumana was smiling.

“Ah, hey there, Eri-chan, Hitomi-chan,” he said. His eyes rested on Hitomi for a moment, particularly her wounds, the group of people that were slowly catching up on them, and the remains of the smoke cloud beginning to drift off the top of the building. The most annoying part was that in the end he nodded like he understood everything, all with a smile on his face. Hitomi would have punched him if she had the strength. “I got it, I got it. I was wondering what I would find in a place like this, and all we have is a mess! Allow me to lend you all a hand, free of charge.”

Urumana grabbed onto Hitomi’s hand and pulled her into an alleyway without even receiving permission first. She had no idea where they were going, only that behind her Misaki was making sure Eri could keep up.

* * *

The easiest word to describe Saruhiko at this point would be enraged. The feeling was increasing in steady increments with everything that happened, from the brunette girl’s interference to the gas that allowed for their retreat. It had been the chance for his first fight with Misaki irence to the gass that allowed for their retreat. It had been the chance for his first fight with increments with everyn _weeks_, and a _real_ fight at that, and now it was gone unless he made the decision to follow after them, which was _obviously_ what he was going to do next. There was no way he was just going to give this up without a fight.

With a click of his tongue, Saru brought down his sword encased in its blue aura, splitting the gas away and restoring his vision. He made a beeline for the door to the stairwell, only to find it locked. A kick supported by his red aura was enough to dislodge it off its hinges, a bill SCEPTER4 could manage easily. ER4h to dislodge it off it' stairwell, only to find it locked. A kick supoprted d restorinng Part of him was annoyed that he was using his first power so willingly, but he let it slide, descending down the stairs faster than any elevator could manage.

Exiting the building, Saruhiko was able to catch a glimpse of Misaki disappearing down some alleyway, pulling the woman that had stayed out of the fight behind him. He was prepared to follow in pursuit whenever someone else collided into his back. Turning around, Saruhiko found himself face to face with two men and a woman, all of which were sporting weapons or fighting stances. Their clothing styles were similar, although Saruhiko couldn’t say how exactly. All he really cared about was that the trio in front of him was clearly looking for a fight and not going to back down, no matter how hard Saruhiko glared at them.

He allowed himself to grin.

The first of the males—the one that had run into him—took a kick to the gut before he could even think to retaliate, crashing into a trashcan on the opposite end of the street seconds later. His stance was so weak Saruhiko didn’t even need to consider drawing his own weapon. The other male stepped up next, swinging a crowbar that Saruhiko blocked with an aura shield on his arm and disarmed with his sword a second later. Saruhiko aimed for his target’s arm so as to disable him from using his weapon again, only to be intercepted by a glint of silver wielded by the female in the group.

Saruhiko pulled back out of the attack, surveying the third of his opponents. She seemed to be the most competent out of the trio, the curved blade of a kabutowari extending from the hilt held in her hand. It was an unusual weapon choice, but Saruhiko wasn’t about to get distracted by it. He made the move to strike first, his blade meeting hers and sending a _clang_ throughout the area. Behind him, the still conscious male attempted to repeat Misaki and the brunette’s strategy on the roof, taking a swing with the crowbar while Saruhiko’s back was still turned.

Saruhiko’s free hand reached out, grabbing onto the male’s face and letting a burst of his red aura scorch over the male’s skin, a sudden impact from his blue aura sending the male flying back into the building Saruhiko had just come from and into unconsciousness. The female didn’t seem to be bothered by the felling of her teammate, only focusing on her next attack. Her attacks had a lot of force behind them for a girl so small, causing Saruhiko to actually put some effort into repelling her blows. There was no chance she could overpower him, but if his focus was on merely blocking her, it would leave himself open to other attacks easier.

The plan came to him in an instant, and he didn’t hesitate in putting it into action. The next time their blades met, he focused on her stance, locating her weak spots. The time after that he slipped the blades out of his sleeves and forced them into her leg, the impact affecting her almost instantly. She didn’t scream, which was disappointing, but she fell down despite her best efforts, guarding her injured limb over anything else. Saruhiko made a quick strike at the back of her neck, rendering her unconscious just like her teammates.

Only one problem remained, seated atop a building across the street. Saruhiko pulled one of his blades out of the girl’s leg, using both his auras to guide it towards the intended target. Although his aim was a bit off due to issues with long-distance depth perception, Saruhiko still succeeded in knocking the binoculars out of the hands of the person observing him on the street. The remaining opposing force disappeared from view seconds later, retreating into cover. Other than Saruhiko and the three bodies he rendered unconscious, the street was still empty, and Misaki was probably long gone for now, a bat-shaped dent in the side of the SCEPTER4 van proving that the HOMRA member had certainly been here.

Saruhiko clicked his tongue and didn’t even bother to try and find any traces of where Misaki had gone. There was no point going after him now, if the brunette bitch was going to just get in the way and screw everything up. That could wait until the time was right.

“Ah, how boring, though. I expected more out of these three considering…” Saruhiko muttered to himself, nudging one of the unconscious males with his foot. After what had just happened, he would have burn scars for sure. The thought was enough to bring a smirk to his face for just a moment, even if it didn’t replenish his mood in the slightest.

Saruhiko made the solid confirmation that the three bodies in front of him were all wearing green before he left them behind.

* * *

By some miracle of fate, Konde had been able to make it to the park where he had been staying without further incident. Whether it was just because he had burned out or maybe he was getting a better hang on his powers, Konde didn’t care. He was too busy replaying the scenario on the rooftop over and over in his mind, and had only made it to his destination due to his body working on auto pilot.

The Shizume City Park was more than likely the _only_ place that seemed to be void of technology, aside from whichever cellphone or music player or whatever people brought with them. Konde had been able to secure a place to sleep nudged between trees where nobody seemed to be able to figure out he existed. Even the park security never noticed him, and with a few blankets he had managed to get out of the park’s lost and found, it was a cozy enough place to stay considering he couldn’t live in a normal house anymore.

_Ugh, what am I supposed to do now?_ Konde thought, slumping down against one of the trees that had proven to be somehow more comfortable than the others over the past few weeks. It was probably only his imagination that provided the effect, but he wasn’t entitled to care much otherwise. _Things were bad enough as it is, but now Minenai’s hurt. I know she wouldn’t, but somebody’s probably gonna call the cops at this rate and if that happens, I’m screwed._

For what wasn’t the first time, Konde couldn’t help but think that maybe this was what he deserved for all the trouble he had caused.

_And what, I’m just supposed to accept this thing that’s destroyed my entire life? How is saying it’s okay for it to exist supposed to make _anything_ better? It’s _not_ okay for it to exist and do all these things to me! It’s _not!

Almost as if in retaliation, Konde could feel the static starting to hum through his veins. There wasn’t enough to produce a spark yet, but if there had been, Konde was sure it would have shown itself. As if he could run away from something his own body was producing, he tried curling up in a ball, hugging his knees tightly to his chest. If he discharged anytime soon, at least he was under the cover of trees that would halt most of the impact from going out and hurting park goers. The last few times he had discharged had proven that.

_But other than the fact that Minenai got hurt, wasn’t that kind of cool? I mean, if I really could control that, wouldn’t I be able to fight off bad guys or something? And if not that, I’d at least be able to hold it off long enough to maybe see Mei again, or find out if she got out of the hospital yet…_

Konde felt pathetic. Already there were tears in his eyes, and they would be falling at any second now. Even if the argument he had made perfect sense, he still couldn’t convince himself to go through with it. Already his resolve was crumbling, wanting to find Minenai, find Masaka-san, have someone teach him how to control his power, but there was the shred of stubbornness and pride that was still rejecting everything about the ability that had hurt Mei. The sparks in his veins shifted constantly, almost ready to work with him but still refusing.

“Why am I so… goddamn _stupid?_”

The engagement ring he had meant to give to Mei was ever present in his pocket. Konde gave in and broke down in tears.


	10. Chapter Ten: Rest

**Reconstruction**

By: Aviantei

Chapter Ten

Rest

* * *

Goro sat in Shizume City Park, taking a quick breather. While the trip to Ashinaka Gakuen hadn’t been exactly exhausting, the photographer had suddenly remembered that he had been given a second assignment for the day that he had been neglecting. The result had been running around for the past hour or so, until by pure luck he had been able to come across his “target” of sorts and set the camera lens to shuttering almost nonstop.

It was moments like this that Goro could begin to brag about his camera for hours. Even though both he and his subject were in motion for most of the time—which was why he was so tired—all of the images had come out crystal clear. Not only was the subject in focus, the background was in detail, so much that you could probably track the boy’s path across the city if you knew the locations well enough. Not to mention the battery was almost invincible, which was required when you were like Goro and had a camera on and in your hands for almost every waking second of your life. More of Setsuko’s handiwork that the photographer would have to pay back at some point in the future.

But for now Goro was content to flip through his spoils for the day, an interesting array of subjects in the pictures. There were the large, seemingly never-ending sections of his work—Suoh Mikoto’s grave, the boy—with mixtures of crowded streets, random street performers, even mere scenery shots, not to mention the few unknowingly taken pictures of Yukizome Kukuri that would need to be separated out before the end of the day when Goro would submit his assignments. It was an arduous process, but he didn’t mind in the slightest.

At the end of the gallery stored in his camera were the last of Goro’s efforts for his second job. The target had finally come to rest, and Goro had been able to be pickier about his shots as he wasn’t running anymore. The fact that he had spent a good chunk of his afternoon on following a person could probably mark the photographer as a stalker if it weren’t just business to him. Although he had to admit, maybe some of his interest in the boy he had captured crying in the middle of the trees with the occasional spark flying off his skin was slowly becoming less than professional. But Goro had been hired with his client knowing exactly what kind of person he was, so they wouldn’t really care if that was the case.

“Hm, I have to admit that it’s a bit clever to be hiding away in a place like that and not get caught,” Goro muttered to himself. If he had the time, the photographer would have liked to follow the boy some more, maybe see just how he survived after barricading himself inside the park like this, but time wasn’t something he had. There was _the_ main job he relied on to do still, and there was no way he could get away with ditching that on personal interest, the employer in understanding or no.

_Geeze, being an adult sure is a drag sometimes. Maybe I was too hasty in wanting to be in charge of my own decisions._ Goro stood up and stretched, taking a picture of the sky in the process. Checking the time again, he headed towards the park’s exit, wondering just how much of a pain in the ass it would be to properly get a cab at this hour.

“_There ain’t no rest for the wicked_, right?” he said, dropping the phrase in English. “And hind sight’s always twenty-twenty, the youth want to grow up too quickly, we easily become disillusioned with our futures, and all that junk. Man, philosophy sure is some boring stuff.” Goro laughed, holding out his camera to take a picture of himself. Looking at the result, he frowned and deleted the image immediately, scoffing.

_Self-portraits are disgusting. Just how fuckin’ egotistical can an artist get, thinking they’re the best part of the world to recreate when there’s so many other things out there that are worth their attention?_

Goro shoved his camera into his bag without even bothering to turn off the power.

* * *

Eri had never been so grateful to see Urumana-san in her life, albeit she had only known him for a short period of time. She felt more pathetic than anything, mostly because the woman could only view herself as a liability in the situation they had just gone through. Not only could she not fight, she had to be protected, couldn’t react fast enough so had to be dragged around, and ran even slower than Hitomi did with a gashing injury in her side that Eri had been the indirect cause of by telling her sister not to defend herself. While that call had been in the better interest, Eri still had an impending sense of guilt weighing down on her that didn’t dissipate even after they had safely escaped from Fushimi and the group that had appeared outside the building.

Eri pursed her lips. The fact that SCEPTER4 was involved made it obvious that the Strain they were looking for was involved in something bigger than possibly handing them information. Especially since there had been a group in pursuit of _them_, meaning someone was either after herself and Hitomi, the Strain, or Yata, or maybe even all of them. What had started as a simple trip to try and find Ruyaki was now going to cause far more trouble than Eri had bargained for.

But she didn’t have the time to focus on that now. Urumana-san had led them to an apartment complex, which they were now standing outside of. Eri wanted to object, mainly because Hitomi was getting worse and worse and should be resting not making social calls. It didn’t help that Eri had yet to show her “voice” to the guide, meaning she couldn’t object, especially when the man in question was busy with the intercom system by the door.

“What the hell are we here for?” Yata asked, fed up himself. Hitomi was leaning against the wall, and her eyes flicked to Urumana at the same time Eri’s did. Eri couldn’t see the man’s expression, but his tone of voice made it seem like he was completely unaffected by the other male’s annoyance.

“Well, Hitomi-chan obviously needs some help so I figured I’d provide it for you,” Urumana said. There was a response on the other end of the intercom that Eri couldn’t hear and Urumana returned his attention to the device. “Hey, Suga-chan, it’s Nezuto. I’ve got someone that could use your help out here so could you let us in, pretty please?”

There was no verbal response, just the buzzer as the door unlocked. Urumana opened the door, gesturing inside. “Ladies first,” he said. Hitomi scoffed and stumbled through the entrance, Eri racing after her to provide support. Yata continued to glare at Urumana as he reluctantly followed suit, the door closing as they all entered, Urumana leading the trio towards an elevator.

They gathered inside, Urumana hitting a button that wasn’t for the top floor but close enough. Hitomi was leaving a trail of blood drops in their wake, probably enough to leave small stains on the carpet in the lobby. Yata was still fingering his bat, tense. Eri felt bad for the HOMRA member, especially since even with her sense of direction she was sure Urumana had dragged them in the opposite direction of the bar that was the teenager’s base.

The elevator signaled its arrival, and the group exited with the same amount of tension and silence as they had going in. Urumana walked up to the door on the opposite end of the hallway, opening the door without even knocking first. Eri threw up a silent prayer that his actions were acceptable and they weren’t about to incredibly offend someone that could help Hitomi out.

Continuing on, Urumana strode into the living room after discarding his shoes at the entrance. Eri helped Hitomi out of her boots and then removed her own flats, Yata kicking off his tennis shoes without a care. The HOMRA member helped Hitomi the rest of the way to the couch, getting blood over the dark brown surface and leaving a stain on his own white shirt.

“Hey, Nezu-yan, please refrain from bringing enough kids to form the protagonists of some anime into my living room when you know I have work to do,” a voice commented. It sounded more bored than annoyed, though, which didn’t do much for Eri’s nerves. A person strode into the room, carrying what appeared to be an industrial size first aid kit in their hands.

Urumana only chuckled, that same laugh that could somehow soothe Eri’s nerves despite the situation. Yes, she was definitely grateful the man had arrived to help them. “Come on, Suga-chan, it’s not like they’re all hurt,” he protested. “Only Hitomi-chan there needs bandaged up, and I know you can handle something like that, simple. And besides, if you weren’t going to help me, you know I wouldn’t have ended up here in the first place!”

There was a heavy sigh as the med kit was placed on the couch beside Hitomi, who was fighting to keep her eyelids stay open. “Yeah, I know.” The person glanced over their shoulder to Yata and Eri, causing the woman to jump. “I’m Sugawara Yuuka, a doctor. Since you’re friends of Nezu-yan’s I have no choice but to help you out.” Even though the name indicated Sugawara was female, looking at her face you wouldn’t have been able to tell which gender was correct. Without missing a beat, the doctor turned back to Hitomi and started assessing her wounds.

“This woman is Eri-chan,” Urumana introduced, gesturing to the woman in question. Eri felt the need to bow even though Sugawara’s back was turned. “She’s mute. Judging by her actions, she says it’s nice to meet you.” Eri gave a grateful nod to Urumana, who smiled. “The one you’re taking care of is Hitomi-chan, and you can’t blame her for not introducing herself, either. And the young gentleman I haven’t had the pleasure of being introduced to yet is…”

“Yata,” the boy in question grumbled, folding his arms across his chest. He turned his gaze to Eri. “Hey, Hayatama-san, you sure we can trust this guy? If you ask me, he seems kind of fishy dragging us off to one of his friends without warning.” Eri felt her stomach start to flip at the thought. Although she and Hitomi had put their trust into Urumana, there was no guarantee they were safe. After all, Sugawara was someone who was casually treating wounds on her living room couch without asking any questions of where they came from.

Urumana didn’t seem to be insulted by this accusation, still only laughing. Yata’s frown grew deeper as he glared across the room. “Ah, you’re the cautious type. I expected as much,” he said. “If you’re that worried, you could always take me captive. Although I don’t think Suga-chan would appreciate having a hostage situation in her living room when we’re already imposing on her like this.”

“Just for that, you can expect to pay a little bit extra for giving them stupid ideas, Nezu-yan,” Sugawara said, still tending to Hitomi.

“Eh, you’re gonna make me pay for this? I thought this could count as one of your special favors, Suga-chan…”

“Keep complaining and I’ll double the price.”

Urumana grimaced, although he tried to revert his expression back to a smile soon enough. “And there you have it,” he said, as if that solved everything. “If you can’t trust me, at least let me pick up the bill and see if that helps your worries out any. Suga-chan’s treatments are special, so they’re not cheap.” Eri attempted to protest, trying to use sign language even though there was no interpreter. Urumana raised his eyebrows at her. “I’m sorry, Eri-chan, I can’t understand what you’re saying… But really, it’s okay. I wouldn’t want someone like Yatagarasu-kun getting a bad impression of me.”

_Yatagarasu…?_

Eri looked to Yata, who had a satisfied smile on his face. “So you actually know about me then?” he said. “Then you understand that this won’t go well if your friend over there tries anything funny, right?”

“Of course, of course. I really only have the best intentions in bringing you all here. Eri-chan and Hitomi-chan have entrusted me as their guide right now, so it wouldn’t do me any good to just go and drag them somewhere unsafe. Suga-chan is someone I would trust with my life, so there’s nowhere else I could possibly bring you all when I found you in a situation like that.”

Yata’s posture seemed to finally relax, and Eri let herself have a sigh of relief. In situations where she couldn’t speak, it was hard to keep everything stable. The fact that Hitomi was currently unable to translate didn’t make it any easier. At least for the time being, while they were relying on Sugawara, it would be best to avoid any incidents.

“Speaking of that, who the hell were those—hey, what do you think you’re doing?!” Yata suddenly shouted, his face lighting up. Eri looked to Sugawara, who seemed to be the target of his outburst.

Sugawara was in the middle of pulling up Hitomi’s shirt, revealing a nasty reddened gash in the girl’s side. Eri felt a surge of guilt; she had been the one to stop Hitomi from properly defending herself, so if anyone was to blame—no, it had been the man from SCEPTER4 that had done the damage. The feelings beginning to belly up inside Eri overshadowed any sense of modesty she could have on her sister’s behalf.

Hitomi and Sugawara wore matching unconcerned expressions, both directed at Yata, whose face was bordering the brilliant red of his aura. “I’m tending to her wounds, Yatagarasu-tan,” Sugawara informed, completing the act of removing Hitomi’s top, showing off her black lace bra. Yata looked as if he were about to faint. “If you can’t handle a little blood, I suggest leaving the room.”

To Eri, it didn’t look like just _a little_ blood, but she could still stomach it. Yata frowned, muttering, “It’s not the blood.” Still he did turn to face the other way, adding a strange echo to his voice as he spoke. Hitomi shrugged to Sugawara, wincing all the way, and the doctor set to work. “But _anyway_, what the hell was with those guys from earlier? They just stormed us out of nowhere!”

“Fuck that, what was with that SCEPTER4 asshole?” Even raising her voice seemed to put Hitomi in pain, and Eri tried her best to not look too concerned, though she was probably failing. “I’m okay, Nee-san, calm down. I’m just pissed at that Saru guy or whatever his name was. I mean, he was all _Misaki_ this, _Mi-sa-ki_ that. Then he goes off on me for fighting me whenever he attacked us! Ugh, I shoulda bashed his pretty boy face in!”

Hitomi looked raring to get up the next instant, which was the point Sugawara pushed a swab covered with antiseptic a little too hard into the girl’s side.

“Well, I do believe the people that attacked you were a part of Yggdrasil,” Urumana said, a hand on his chin. He looked between the parties in the room, contemplative. “What they want with all of you is just a guess, but given their modus operandi, I’m assuming they were trying to recruit at least one of you.”

Eri could feel her eyes widen, Mie-chan almost mirroring the action. Her lips parted, and it was all she could do to stay silent. Hitomi was equally in shock, leaving Yata to be the first to speak. “Wait, wait, you mean the Knowledge Tree? Those guys were Green Clansmen?”

“Well, if they were trying to recruit us, they were doing an awful job of it,” Hitomi grumbled, chewing on her lip. It was a sure sign that she wanted a cigarette but couldn’t exactly do so in the moment. “You don’t just attack people and be like, hey join my group! That’s just shitty thinking.”

That was true, but… _That’s it!_ Eri waved a hand to catch Hitomi’s attention. _What if they were trying to save us?_ she signed.

“Huh, what do you mean by that?”

_I mean that we were in trouble there,_ Eri signed, not bothering to wait for Hitomi to translate. _That SCEPTER 4 member was about to overwhelm us. Maybe there’s some reason they had to take a seemingly antagonistic approach to us, but if that smoke bomb was theirs, they saved your life, Hitomi-chan._

Hitomi scoffed. “Yeah, or they were trying to ambush us,” she muttered. Eri couldn’t argue that point. “And even though they did save me, I’m not gonna be in debt to them or anything. If they try that, I’ll kick their asses twice as hard.”

“Regardless,” Sugawara interrupted, “you can’t deny they have an interest in you.” By this point she was expertly winding bandages around Hitomi’s stomach, securing the wound in safe packaging. “And if any of the Clans has an interest in you, you should stay on your toes.”

Eri raised an eyebrow, and signed to Hitomi, _Ask how she knows about the Clans._

“I can understand you perfectly fine, Eri-pon,” Sugawara said for herself. _Um, is that supposed to be a nickname? _Eri thought, not signing out the words. “And, as to answer your question, I _am_ an underground doctor. You pick up on plenty of things that way.” She fastened her handiwork together, nodding her approval. “Make sure you can move alright, Hi-chan.”

Hitomi bristled at her own nickname, standing and stretching out. “Well, considering I’m another Clansmen, they were probably after me,” Yata spoke up. “Sorry for dragging you guys into this. Geeze, why now of all times…”

After a few movements that put Eri’s flexibility to shame, Hitomi scooped up her shirt. “Whatever, they didn’t look so tough,” she dismissed with a heavy exhale in her words. Eri didn’t feel similarly reassured, but she was just glad Hitomi was okay. “By the way, it’s safe to look,” she added, and Yata snuck a peek over his shoulder. “But you still haven’t answered my question about your friend there, Misaki-chan.” Locking eyes with the boy, Eri nodded.

“Well, he’s not exactly my friend…” Yata tried to brush it off, but Eri could see it. There was a sort of anguish left over from the encounter, as deep as Eri’s loss of Ruyaki. It was a good thing Hitomi couldn’t read people all that well, or she would have started something over it. “I mean, he _was_, but… Listen, long story short, he used to be part of HOMRA and defected to SCEPTER4 a long time ago. He’s a damn monkey, and that’s all there is to it.”

The entire room seemed to have a collective understanding that that _wasn’t_ all there was to it, but no one said anything.

“A clan jumper, huh,” Urumana said, looking almost sad. “Still, what matters the most is that you’re all safe. Though I’m curious as to what you all were doing there. It was on the news, didn’t you see?”

Eri nodded her approval to Hitomi, who said, “That’s why we went there. We think it might have something to do with Ruyaki, so we were going to check and see if we could find the person responsible. Still, they were gone, so we’re stuck again.”

“Ah, yeah, that,” Sugawara said. She pulled out a small notebook from her pocket, flipping through the pages. “Someone went to the hospital, right? They might have seen something. If I were you, I’d talk to them next.” For the first time, the doctor smiled, the slightest upturn of the lips that hardly reached her eyes. “Ah, of course, I’ll be adding that bit of advice onto your tab, Nezu-yan.”

Urumana laughed, a breathy, less than amused sound. “Yeah, I figured,” he said, sounding like he had just been run over. He managed to brighten up as he faced the other three in the room. “Well, as you can see, I’m in need of some funds at the moment. If you need a guide on your trip, I’d be more than happy to escort you.”


	11. Chapter Eleven: Reset

**Reconstruction**

By: Aviantei

Chapter Eleven

Reset

* * *

All in all, Fukune Liah wasn’t too pleased.

It was almost unfair. Earlier today, Tarashi had broken his lollygagging about phase for once in his miserable life and had gotten some work done. That had promised to keep Liah’s migraines to a minimum, so she had had high hopes for the day. They had even seemed to be making progress on the newest Strain case. And then Nagana had come back with Kuzuryu and Togami battered and Ushijima scarred and all three of them unconscious, and all of Liah’s brilliant mood had evaporated.

_Ah, the King will be so mad when he gets back,_ Liah fussed, biting at her thumbnail. It wasn’t true exactly, since their King was rather laid-back—almost too much so at times—but Liah was disappointed in herself. Knowing that she couldn’t just sit around forever, the joint second-in-command of strode out of the kitchen aside and went straight for the living area, hoping most of the members that were in would still be there.

They were, and Liah smiled. Despite everything, they were all hard at work, in discussions or research or phone calls. Of course the exception was Tarashi, lying asleep on one of the couches, arms folded behind his head. Liah noogied his head in passing, causing the man to growl and the others to flinch. “Come on,” Liah said, and Tarashi sat up without further complaints, sending a shared exhale through the room.

Liah gave a sigh of her own. Really, it wasn’t like she blamed everyone else for being afraid of him, but it got old at times. Taking a seat beside her partner in leadership (pretty much name only), Liah cleared her throat, bringing the members of Yggdrasil to attention. “Alright, since everyone seems to be at the ready, we should discuss what happened earlier and where to go from here.”

“You know, Fukune-san, they say that sleep is the key to good skin care,” Tarashi barbed. “Maybe if you took a nap every now and then, you wouldn’t have wrinkles at such a young age.”

“Tarashi-kun, maybe if you stayed awake for more than five hours at a time, you would have some experience with using that brain of yours.”

It was a routine by now: one of them said something smart, the other retorted. They could go on for hours, but Liah could reign herself in if need be. Already, though, Nagana was looking worried, so it was probably best to cut things short. Liah cleared her throat a second time, crossing her legs, palms resting on the joint. “As the others are currently recovering, we’ll leave the majority of the details to Nagana-kun. Still, I would say that things are getting pretty serious.”

Collectively, the rest of the members looked to Nagana. Impressively, he didn’t shrink under the gaze, though he did look a bit unnerved from the sudden attention. “When we went to investigate the Strain, we found HOMRA’s Yatagarasu, the women they’re helping, and SCEPTER4’s third in command. The rumor we were investigating…it’s true.” There was a collective gasp, but Nagana added, “Fushimi Saruhiko has both the red and blue auras. He’s under the protection of two kings.”

Their group dynamic was impressive; no one immediately went to refute the idea. One of their own had said it, so Yggdrasil would accept it as fact. In this instance, one member’s eyes were as good as definite for the whole group.

“Of course, this doesn’t change anything in our goals,” Liah picked up, pulling the attention away from her subordinate. “What it does change, however, is the speed at which we need to accomplish them. This is the second major development following the Red, Colorless, and Silver Kings’ deaths. We can assume there will be no complete mourning period for us to work slowly.”

“Man, rushing’s no good…” Tarashi remarked, frowning. Liah agreed, but there was just no _time_. “Well, it’s eat or be eaten, I guess. We’ll just have to make the most of it.”

“That being said, we need to expedite our investigations. Given that the women are relying on HOMRA, we need a liaison there as soon as possible. We have to gain their trust fast. That amount of manpower may not be easy to sway, but any numbers are better than none.”

“Hm, who to pick, who to pick…?” Tarashi’s eyes almost sparkled, and Fukune just let him be.

Nagana’s mouth flapped open a few times before he actually settled on letting out words. “We can’t leave Fushimi alone, either,” he said, rushed. “He’s dangerous. Depending on the situation, he could easily turn against us. Something has to be done about him.”

“Oh, I definitely agree,” Tarashi said. Nagana looked utterly floored that he had been agreed with, and Liah felt somewhat the same way. “He’s a wild card, a complete bastard, really. So we either get him on our side or we kill him. No one like him should have that much power unless he’s on our side. And at the first sign of betrayal, then—”

Fukune raised a hand. She had to stop him before she lost it herself. “We’ll look into it,” she said, directing her calm at Nagana. “Why don’t you go lie down, Nagana-kun? You’ve had a rough day. I think some rest would do you good.” The young man nodded, doing an admirable job of not bolting at full tilt out of the room, though that might have been a physical limitation more than anything. “Everyone else, resume as you were. We’ll discuss this in further detail at dinner.” Liah stood up, running a hand through her hair. Really, just how exhausting could one day get?

“Hey, Togami’s out of commission.”

“Who’s gonna cook dinner?”

“Hey, Fukune-san…?”

Well, that certainly answered that question.

* * *

Minenai braced herself as Momoko took a deep breath; the trips were unpleasant on a normal day, but with this many people and a broken arm that Minenai was going to burn the cast for the instant it was off her arm and she was around a lighter. Unfortunately, both of those would have to wait until she was out of the hospital, which was the only good thing about the current moment.

They were huddled together, all six of them, and it was pretty hard to breathe. Still, Momoko’s powers only had so large of a range, so closer was better. One time, Ayumu had lost a chunk of her hair in the process, which didn’t help the recluse in getting any fresh air.

Just as Minenai was about to snap out that Momoko should hurry the hell up (her need to focus be damned), Minenai crumbled, reassembling in the natural light of the base, completely different from the artificial light of her hospital room. It wasn’t anything fancy, just a housing arrangement Shinichiro had managed to cobble together the money for, but it was at least some sort of home.

“We’re home!” Yoshiro called out, even though the only one not getting back was Ayumu, and she more than likely had headphones stuck over her ears, blocking out any sort of sound whatsoever. Takehiko and Ayaka immediately settled at the couch, bring the TV and one of their many gaming consoles to life, and Momoko exhaled, holding a hand to her chest. Shinichiro sat down to watch the twins, and Minenai scoffed, heading towards the connected kitchen, hoping for a knife.

She wasn’t angry at them. Even as a group, they still were different people. They had their discussion meeting while waiting for the right moment to escape from the hospital, so there wasn’t anything Minenai could do about it. Shinichiro knew all of Ayumu’s TV shows and other habits, so was probably waiting until the right moment to recruit her. All Minenai could do was hope they had something around sharp enough to easily cut through her unnecessary cast.

Ugh, how could she have gone and passed out like that? It was just a hit. Sure, she had hit her head, but if she could have stayed up just a bit longer, she would have been fine and could have chased after Sparky without any issues.

_Jesus Christ, I’m so sick of that kid. What’s his deal?_

Looking through the knives, Minenai took tentative stabs at her cast, figuring a knife wound was a small price to pay for getting her arm back in working order. Just as she wound up for the stab, Shinichiro practically materialized behind her, voice right by her ear.

“You know, I bet the kids would help you out if you asked them nicely.”

Minenai had half the mind to stab _him_ for that, but instead spun around, leaning past their leader. “Oi, brats—”

“Stupid Minenai,” Ayaka muttered.

“So impatient,” Takehiko agreed.

“I think she needs to learn the definition of _nicely_.”

“Well, the Boss would get mad if we didn’t help her.”

“_It’s not like we weren’t going to do it anyway,_” they said together, fiddling with their controllers.

Minenai really should have seen it coming, but she still flinched back as a pale green light temporarily blinded her. It didn’t matter how many times the Sato twins used their ability, it took a certain level of trust that Minenai just didn’t have to accept that anything could happen to you. Blinking to regain her vision, Minenai found the cast gone, the surrounding bandage slipping off her arm, stained purples with bruises.

“Level seven dematerialization spell, success,” Takehiko reported.

“That’s pretty handy. Specifying any target type, accounting for gamer probability… That’s some pretty sweet tech,” Ayaka said, nodding. They were both smiling, proud of their success.

“Just goes to show how far technology’s come, huh?”

“Um, why are you two talking like you’re at least two decades older?” Minenai retorted, letting her arm go limp. Already the pain was searing through the medication the hospital had given her, so fixing it was immediate. Focusing, she pulled the space of her arm backwards, unsetting and reassembling the bone in a display that would have been censored on public television.

_Ugh, doing it during the adrenaline rush is so much better. No more of this hospital junk! Setting the bone just means I have to undo that shit first._

“Oh, so you guys targeted her cast, huh?” Momoko asked, seeming genuinely interested. “That seems kind of risky, though. What if you guys dematerialized her clothes, too…” Despite her words, she didn’t seem all too concerned about the idea. Minenai tried to think of a way to get vengeance without causing Momoko too much physical harm.

Takehiko recoiled, holding his controller tight to his chest. “Idiot! We targeted the plaster, not the fabric!”

Ayaka reached her small hands up to cover her brother’s ears. “Momo-san’s a pervert…” she said. Momoko only giggled, not denying the accusation.

“Hm, I could get behind something like that,” Shinichiro commented, bringing the fact that he was right in front of her to Minenai’s attention. He smirked softly, and Minenai pushed at his chest with her good arm, signaling for him to get out of the way.

“I’m lying down,” she said, heading for the bedrooms. “All this bullshit’s got me exhausted.” Despite being in one piece, phantom pains still shrieked through her arm, the pain of being completely reset in less than ten seconds decompressing. “Wake me up when we decide to do something about Sparky, okay?”

A chorus of responses followed, which Minenai didn’t bother to respond to. No one would take offense anyway. Now all she had to do was hope that whatever Ayumu was into wasn’t going to be too loud and she could actually get some rest.

Getting to bed and sitting down, Minenai popped a few painkillers into her mouth from the bedside table. Given that most times using her power tended to overstimulate her brain’s pain receptors, keeping meds nearby was a must. Satisfied, Minenai kicked off her shoes and fell down into the pillows. “Man, that junk at the hospital was good stuff. Should’ve nicked some of it…”

Her eyes drifted shut, but Minenai couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t her arm—she’d slept with worse, honestly. But some part of her brain kept running around, kept thinking of Sparky, knowing about his girlfriend, knowing that he was probably beating himself to hell and back, and definitely in more danger if the instinct growing at the pit of her stomach was right.

Rolling onto her side and trapping her arm under her weight, Minenai frowned.

“Jesus Christ, kid, I’m not worth that much.”

* * *

Awashima Seri was concerned—not for herself, but for her Captain. Maybe it was because of the more passive role she had taken in everything, but Seri had walked away from the Ashinaka Gakuen Incident without much trouble. It was the effect it had on those around her—Munakata and even Kusanagi—that sent the SCEPTER4 second in command into contemplation at the slightest incident.

Now was no exception. While she was glad that the Captain had taken charge of his own volition, that didn’t change the ever growing pile of assignments that had been under her control. If the former Red Clan was going to start acting up again, SCEPTER4 needed to be able to place as many resources as possible into the situation. Cleaning up the messes taking place at the moment was the key to that.

Looking into the abductions was difficult, as there were no real leads at the present. However, looking into the Strain was much easier, as it left a trial behind wherever it went. The localized blackout earlier today was a sure sign that it had struck again, and this time there was a witness—the first witness. While a number of assumptions had been drawn from the Strain’s activity, it would be good to have someone to back them up as facts:

First: The Strain’s power was electricity based. That was indisputable.

Second: The Strain was more than likely a generator, capable of putting out great, yet constricted amounts of power.

Third: Anytime there was an incident, there hadn’t been reports of anyone suspicious.

Fourth: No common people were reoccurring between the sites during investigation.

Fifth: The sites held no similarities either. Each incident was random.

Sixth: There was a strong chance that the Strain was human, given how it kept itself out of surveillance. Gender was indeterminate at this point.

Seven: With no obvious connector between the sites, they were also probably a recent Strain, unable to handle their powers.

Though it ultimately made collection a harder task, Seri preferred it this way. At least human strains could be reasoned with. Animal strains made everything more difficult, the incident with Shiroan Nikomi Tofu. And though there weren’t any particular patterns yet, humans were often easier to find falling into habits. If all else failed when it came to the witness, the Strain would give itself away sooner or later.

The vehicle finally pulling up to Shizume General Hospital, Seri stepped out, leaving the driver behind. Questioning was something she could handle on her own, and too many people would draw attention. Of course, her uniform (among other assets) was enough to pull gazes towards her, but Seri didn’t think of it as an awful inconvenience.

“I’m from SCEPTER4,” she announced to the secretary at the front desk. “I called ahead regarding a patient we wished to question about their accident. I would like to know their room number.” Given the time of day, visiting hours would be coming to a close soon, but that wouldn’t be an issue for Seri. The secretary shuffled through documents, coming up with the requested information.

“Room 107,” he said, holding up a small chart. A picture was attached, showing a woman with pale green hair, asleep, and obviously not pulled from any public record. “We’ll have to send a member of the staff with you, though, if that’s alright. The patient experienced some head trauma and has been uncooperative, so we haven’t been able to determine her condition.”

“That will be fine.” Seri waited for the secretary to make some phone calls, and the mentioned doctor showed up roughly five minutes later, gesturing for the woman to follow. It wasn’t a long walk, but the doctor paused before opening the door.

“You were informed about the patient’s condition?” he asked. Seri nodded. “I know your business is important, but please be careful with her.”

“I understand,” Seri agreed, and the doctor opened the door. They stepped in, only to find the room empty. The blankets were rumpled, recently used. Seri scanned the rest of the room. “You are sure the patient was in this room?” The window wasn’t open, but it wasn’t like it would have been exceptionally hard to just leave.

“I’m certain,” the doctor said. He looked just as worried, and Seri flipped open the file from the front desk.

“You have next to no information about this woman,” she said. “Didn’t she have an ID on her?”

“No, we found nothing like that. No insurance card, either.”

With a tongue click that would have but Fushimi to shame, Seri snapped her folder shut. “Make sure any staff that had contact with her stays here. Get your security footage prepared for transfer as well. We need as much information as possible. A group will be coming over soon for questioning. It’s imperative that we find this woman, do you understand?” The doctor nodded, and Seri headed for the door. “Thank you for your cooperation. Please do try to remember as much as you can.”

She took the walk back to the van at double the speed from heading up, fishing in her jacket for her phone. Why did this have to turn into more of a headache than necessary? At this rate, HOMRA would be able to cause as much trouble as they wanted without anyone to keep them in check.

_Of course, they’re not the only problem._

“Head back to headquarters,” she ordered, taking her seat. No questions were asked, and Seri sent the orders necessary to question the hospital. It was looking to be a long night, that was for sure. It was unprofessional, but Seri wanted to take at least ten minutes to clear her head out.

_I wonder…if he has any useful information?_


	12. Chapter Twelve: Report I

**Reconstruction**

By: Aviantei

Chapter Twelve

Report I

* * *

“Seriously, thanks,” Goro said as he walked into the lab. Setsuko didn’t even go to question his words, mostly because she wasn’t even looking at him. Goro rolled his eyes at both himself and her—he _knew_ she kept sensors around that sent her alerts when people came in—and strolled over to her chair, turning Setsuko around with a hand on her shoulder. “Thank you,” he reiterated, making sure to distinguish each syllable with his lips.

_I’m not stupid,_ came the immediate response, words flashing across the nearby laptop screen. _If you’re that worried about me not understanding, just use sign language._ Then, to prove her point, with a flash of fingers, Setsuko signed, _Jackass._

“Sorry, sorry,” Goro said, resuming his normal speaking pace. “I just can’t get used to talking without sound.” Setsuko provided him with a glare and a middle finger, spinning her chair around to return to her work. “Hey, hey, hey, wait a minute.” Goro turned the chair back around. “I came here to thank you, not start a fight, come on.”

_You sure have a funny way of showing it,_ Setsuko signed, unable to easily reach for her computer. _You’ve thanked me, though, so I’d say go if I didn’t know you won’t until you tell me what for._

“It’s this camera.” Goro pulled the piece of tech from its bag, as if Setsuko didn’t know what he was talking about. Deadpan expression, she let him continue, “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Man, I have so much data you wouldn’t believe. Of course, I guess the data’s just as subjective as I am, since it’s technically what I found of interest. But you see, that’s the thing: pictures are almost like letting someone into your head—I mean, the photographer’s. It’s like, I can’t put my thoughts on the image into it, but for a flash, you get to see what I see, the exact vision from my eyes, and we can know we’re looking at the same thing, right?”

_I don’t want to see a damn thing that goes on in your head._ Goro frowned. Really, Setsuko just didn’t get it. Sure, she couldn’t sense the world the exact same way, but her vision was perfectly fine. Besides, it was the _idea _behind it that counted, that humans could understand each other even just a little bit. _If you’ve got so much data, shouldn’t you report on it? Besides, you’re just complimenting me so I’ll keep building you better cameras. Loser._

“Oh, you saw through it?” Goro asked, returning his precious cargo to its bag. Of course, he hadn’t exactly been trying to hide the intention, either. “But it’s not just the picture-taking part. High class hacking enough to get past the security at Ashinaka Gakuen, too. You’re our little genius for sure.”

_Enough,_ Setsuko signed, her movements growing more forceful. She pointed to the line of spare computers—_outdated_ _models,_ according to her standards—and turned back to whatever circuit board she was building. _Tell the boss, not me,_ she added, words in bold characters across the computer screen.

“Right, right,” Goro said, even though she couldn’t hear him. Settling down at the computer, he connected his camera, quickly working on sorting out the pictures he had taken for the day. The processing speed was far beyond his personal computer (which Setsuko had also built for him, meaning she was holding out), condensing the process into an hour. From there, he backed everything up on the Setsukumo, only leaving the actual typing of his reports. It was easily the most annoying part, but it had to be done.

If Goro had had his way, he could have easily spent the whole night watching the Strain boy, but sometimes sacrifices had to be made. Goro was content with his current lifestyle, and doing his job was required for it. And while a stake out could have easily counted as work, he had been asked to report in, so there wasn’t much choice.

_It’s not that big of a deal, though,_ he considered, typing up the necessary details and connecting them to his photos. The boy on the screen ran through the city, his eyes easily sticking out, even from afar—a blazing electric blue. _He probably won’t leave his little hole except to procure food. Even then, he’ll still be there tomorrow. And if not, I just have to follow the blackouts._

It started as a snicker, then Goro just let himself laugh. It wasn’t like Setsuko would tell him to shut up anyways.

Next was the report on the Suoh Mikoto’s memorial at Ashinaka Gakuen. This one was easy enough to pass by with his photos and just a few descriptors, nothing too heavy. Once both of those were submitted, he had a few other minor photo jobs to send to their respective clients, then update his archives with the new stock photos. Satisfied that everything was where it needed to be—personal or otherwise—Goro cleared the data from his camera, leaving the memory cards blank.

_A fresh start._

Closing out all his programs and trying to reset the computer (it was Setsuko’s rule to preserve RAM space), the email program forcibly rebooted, and the newest message opened.

_To: Jackass_  
From: Himura-sama  
Subject: You’re a jackass

_Don’t underestimate me. I can hack into the Gold King’s Palace before the computer even knows what happened._

Goro chuckled, closing the window and completing his task. Passing by Setsuko, he ruffled her hair, resulting in a dull punch to his back en route to the door. “We’re counting on it,” he said, pleased with his work.

* * *

“Eh, you’re hard at work. Isn’t it pretty late for this sort of thing?”

In all honesty, Goro had come to the room more out of curiosity than anything, but he would also take being able to talk to Sugawara. In contrast to Setsuko, the woman was more old-fashioned, currently sketching and scribbling out notes on papers scattered across the table. Goro took a picture, and almost regretted not taking one of Setsuko for contrast.

_Which would be an option if she wouldn’t shut down any piece of tech she’s ever given me as punishment. I wouldn’t even get any of it back._

“I had some personal business interrupt me earlier,” she said, looking up the slightest amount. Goro snapped a second photo, and several others after it. Sugawara didn’t bother to stop it. Really, the only person that did anything when they had a problem was Setsuko, and that was because she had the influence to back it up. “So I’m making up for lost time. Don’t be a distraction, kay?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Goro had gotten most of his playfulness out of the way with Setsuko. When it came to other people at this point, he really didn’t give a damn. He should probably go to bed at the moment, but leaving his memory card with a number of files that could be measured in double or even triple digits didn’t rest easy with him. Even now, all he wanted was some good shots, and had just come to Sugawara’s lab because it was the most photogenic place close to home.

Snagging a few more pictures of Sugawara before moving on, Goro cataloged his trip to the back of the room. It was a bit messy, and Goro had to watch his step, but soon enough he was at the table, setting his camera to multiple shots per click. He wanted to record the moment to the millisecond, but actually taking video was out of the question. The only way he could probably take pictures faster was by willing the images into existence.

_Actually, maybe I should get Setsuko to work on that for me._

On the table was an adult woman, unconscious. She was naked from her physical portion, but Goro didn’t care about any of that. He could _feel_ the influence seeping off of her, the coiling blackness of her entire person being manipulated. There was no way to put that into a picture, but Goro tried. He needed photographic evidence to match up with his memory. Really, Sugawara was the best at this sort of thing. If Goro wasn’t completely satisfied by his camera, he would be jealous.

“Ahh, Sugawara-chan, you’re the best,” he said, breaking the silence. Really, track and kidnap a few people? It wasn’t even a question when you got to see something like this. “Who needs other people anyways? You know exactly how to erase them from existence.”

“Well, I’m still nowhere on the level of Kuwabara-san,” Sugawara said, raising her voice enough to be heard on the opposite end of the room. “But we’re definitely making progress. We should be able to have a fully prepared test vessel soon.”

Goro whistled in appreciation. Seriously, everything seemed to be progressing great, at a rate he couldn’t even believe. There really wasn’t a better time to be alive, and he really believed that. Still snapping pictures of the experiment on the table, he added, “Ah man, I’m really looking forward to it, you know. Just thinking about the future makes me excited. Hey, Sugawara-chan, would you maybe consider carrying around a camera for me?”

“Fujioka-nai, what did I say about being a nuisance?”

Without any semblance of an apology, Goro shut his mouth. She would probably be more talkative later, or maybe she wouldn’t. The amount that people wanted to deal with him varied, and Goro didn’t blame them. He didn’t feel a single thing about it, because words were useless, and people were two-faced, so it was better to just rely on images, preserved in data or ink as truth.

_Still, Sugawara-chan, I really am looking forward to it. I promise you._

* * *

Saruhiko wasn’t really looking forward to it, but work was work, and the fact was that Awashima was busy, so reporting to Munakata—the only remaining person above Saruhiko in rank—was the only option. Taking out the Green Clan members served as some stress relief, but nowhere near enough to erase the itch under his skin, the irritation.

At this rate, Saruhiko was probably going to tear open his burn scars.

Lowering his hand from the reddened skin, SCEPTER4’s third in command stepped into Munakata’s office. The man was at his desk, a jigsaw puzzle capturing half of his attention, a myriad of digital video feeds holding precedence with the other. Briefly considering just leaving (and dismissing it for the scolding he would probably receive later), Saruhiko cleared his throat.

Munakata looked up at the sound, minimizing the videos with a wave of his hand, though they still played in miniature at the corner of his desk. Saruhiko began, just wanting to go and tear something up to relieve his frustration already.

_Preferably that bitch’s limbs from her torso._

“I was unable to find any substantial evidence at the scene to tie back to the Strain’s identity,” he said. “However, I ran into several complications. Misa—_tch,_ HOMRA’s Yatagarasu was there, along with two women I’ve never seen before. During the conflict, several members of Yggdrasil arrived as well. The Yatagarasu and the women escaped, and I disabled all but one of the Green Clansmen. Considering their status, I left them be.” He paused, knowing there was one more thing he should mention. “Also Misaki did some damage to the van I was using. You should get that looked at.”

Munakata didn’t seem to care about the last bit anyway, a pathetic expression forming on the Captain’s face. “HOMRA…” he muttered. _Oh, fuck off,_ Saruhiko thought. If anyone had the right to feel bad, it was him, and he didn’t. Where did Munakata get off acting like he had lost something important? “And Yggdrasil as well?” Saruhiko provided the minimal nod. “Their interest is a given, but the Red Clan…”

Saruhiko had to agree with that. The Green Clan tended to stick their noses into the places where Strains showed up. HOMRA, on the other hand, didn’t really worry about that sort of thing. For the past month, they had been assumed disbanded. Saruhiko hadn’t gotten the chance to ask about it, either—not that Misaki would have told him anything. “We just have to assume that it has to do with whatever they’re working on now,” he said, dissatisfied that was the extent his conclusion would reach.

“Yes,” Munakata agreed, probably not satisfied, either. Still maintaining the professionalism of a King, he switched the topic. “And you mentioned two women? Did you recognize them? Were they perhaps Red Clansmen?”

A click of the tongue couldn’t possibly convey all the frustration Saruhiko felt, but it echoed throughout the room anyways. “Definitely not.” Munakata raised an eyebrow. “They weren’t there when I was. And throughout the fight, neither of them exhibited signs of any Red Aura. Whoever they are, they’re outsiders.”

“Then perhaps they’re part of the cause for HOMRA’s action,” Munakata considered. The idea dissatisfied and satisfied Saru in a nauseating yet gratifying swirl. On one hand, it meant that they were responsible for bringing Misaki back to life. On the other hand went the obvious conclusion: “We should consider them a matter of importance in keeping track of HOMRA. We’ll have to investigate them thoroughly.”

Saruhiko grinned. If he asked, he was sure he could get the assignment. Then he could track the woman down at his leisure, arrest or destroy her at whatever convenient excuse arose. That request wouldn’t be necessary as Munakata added, “You made the initial contact, Fushimi-kun. Is it alright if I leave this to you?”

“Fine by me,” Saruhiko answered, unable to keep the excitement out of his voice. It was probably the first time he had responded to his Captain with such enthusiasm.

Munakata readjusted his widened eyes in seconds, but the smile stayed on his lips. “Then at least get some food and rest before you get to work,” he said, sounding every bit like a father figure Saruhiko didn’t want. “With both the Red and Green Clans involved, we need to be ready for the potential of an emergency. Don’t push yourself. We don’t want to fail in a critical moment.”

The Blue King had a point there. And while food and rest were the last things on Saruhiko’s mind, he knew he would have to at least attempt it, lest Awashima come and lecture him about something insubstantial like “worrying the Captain.” And at this point, Saruhiko could predict what Misaki would do, so it wasn’t like finding him to spill information would be difficult.

He wouldn’t admit that, though, so the teenager only rolled his eyes. “Understood,” he drawled.

Munakata’s smile didn’t waver at all. “Good. Then I’ll except to hear good news from you tomorrow. Do have a good night, Fushimi-kun.”

“‘Night,” Saruhiko grumbled, heading for the door.

_What a bastard._

* * *

“Ugh, seriously?”

Following the guide’s lead—Uru-whatever—Misaki found himself facing Shizume General Hospital. This normally wouldn’t have been a problem; hell, Misaki might have even been impressed. Assuming the Strain victim was actually here, the dude had some pretty sick intuition. But no, none of that mattered, because the place was _swarming_ with SCEPTER4 vans, and Misaki had to hold back a curse to keep them from drawing attention.

Unless proved otherwise, the Uru-dude had just as well led them into a trap.

“Well, this certainly is inconvenient,” the guide in question said, holding onto his chin. It was such a casual gesture that Misaki wanted to punch him. Instead, he sulked in the older man’s shadow, hoping for cover. Getting spotted now wouldn’t be good, especially if Saru had blabbed about their fight earlier. Misaki didn’t want to give any Blue bastards an excuse to arrest him. “It wouldn’t do good to go in with you, Yatagarasu-san; you’d drag too much attention.”

“Yeah,” Misaki said, “‘cause you calling me that is gonna help out the situation.”

With her cat toy tucked under her arm—seriously, what was the point of having that thing if she didn’t use it?—Eri signed out a bunch of nonsense to Misaki’s eyes. Hitomi translated that nonsense into words for the rest of them. “‘They shouldn’t recognize you and me—’ I mean, me or Nee-san— ‘so we should be able to get in without trouble,” she said. “‘Should we go ahead in?’”

“Hold up, hold up,” Misaki said. It was strange being the voice of reason, but it wasn’t possible to be too careful when dealing with Saru. At least, being away from him let Misaki think somewhat clearer than usual. “There’s a chance that Saru has you tagged in surveillance or something. We can’t guarantee they won’t know who you are. Even if it doesn’t cause trouble now, who knows what’ll happen.”

There was a silence of words. The three others looked to him, seemingly impressed. Misaki was about to feel a surge of pride before Hitomi crushed it.

“Woah, there actually is a brain in that skull of yours,” she said, sounding way more impressed than necessary. A strangled growl fell out of Misaki’s throat.

“He is right,” Uru-guy continued as if the insult never happened. Eri nodded silently. “I would rather you ladies didn’t get caught up in anymore clan struggles today. If I had my way, I’d go in and ask for myself, but I doubt you’d be satisfied with me acting in your place.”

The girls shared a glance and signs. Eri’s hands moved with practice, a lightning ease, while Hitomi carefully yet slowly spelled out her sentences. Finally, the younger girl nodded, turning back to Misaki and Uru. “That’s fine,” she allowed, speaking for the both of them. Instantly, her speech switched into awkward formality. “We’ve already asked a lot of you, Urumana-san, but if you don’t mind…” Eri clasped her hands together.

Urumana—that was too long, maybe he’d just stick with Uru—shook his head, a calm smile akin to Kusanagi-san’s. “It’s really no trouble,” he said. “I’ll be in and out in a flash. Even if we can confirm her presence, we can come back when it isn’t so crowded.” Eri tipped downwards in a bow, and even Hitomi smiled a little. Uru tossed a wave, then headed to the hospital, looking as casual as possible. “Then I’ll be off!”

Misaki, Hitomi, and Eri moved off to the side, settling down at a café out of immediate sight of the SCEPTER4 cluster. The girls ordered drinks, but Hitomi looked distracted, glancing over to the hospital almost consistently. Eri looked concerned, but only sipped at her straw. “I wonder what they’re doing here,” she whispered, the speakers of her toy almost too faint to hear.

“It can’t be anything good,” Hitomi said. Trying to add into the conversation was near impossible for Misaki at this point. He’d rather fight an entire SCEPTER4 squad than try and hold a conversation with two girls solo. Uru had been a better influence on his confidence than he thought. As such, the table fell into silence, only the necessary chatter to the waiter for refills required.

_What the hell’s taking that guy so long?_ Misaki wondered. _Sure, it’s a big hospital, but this is ridiculous. Finding one patient shouldn’t take too long, just ask at the front desk…_ As Misaki tried to work up the nerve to say something, Hitomi stood up abruptly, spilling her drink. Misaki had to dodge out of the way to avoid getting soaked, and Eri looked visibly stunned. “Ugh, what the hell’s your _problem_?!” the boy exclaimed, turning to the culprit.

Except he stopped. He had to stop. Hitomi was staring, but it was blank, almost empty. Her face had an expression he hadn’t seen from her before, but one he was familiar with—fear. Misaki gaped, open mouthed, even as their waiter rushed over with cleaning supplies.

“It’s him,” she whispered. Then, just as quietly, “It’s that man…”


	13. Chapter Thirteen: Refuel

**Reconstruction**

By: Aviantei

Chapter Thirteen

Refuel

* * *

“Ah! Welcome home, Kuronosuke!”

The smell of fried rice was the most prominent thing, given that the store was in full dinner swing. One of the tables had been commandeered by Neko, who was close to meowing loudly in an attempt to catch his attention. Yatogami Kuroh smiled and took his seat by her. Looking at the crowd, he was glad to have the day off. “You shouldn’t be so loud,” he chided, knowing the little good it would actually do.

“Nya! Find anything good today?” Neko responded as if she hadn’t heard him at all. “I looked _alllll_ over downtown again, but I didn’t see anything.”

Kuroh felt his spirits drop at that, even as the chef placed a plate in front of him. Given that Kuroh and Neko’s former residence with Shiro wasn’t really an option anymore, the owner had been kind enough to give them a place to stay, on the condition that Kuroh helped work in the kitchens. It wasn’t a bad arrangement, and it gave Neko the option to look around in her cat form throughout the day, but it couldn’t make up for the fact that, despite it being a month, there hadn’t been a sign of Shiro.

Or, rather, Adolf K Weisman, the Silver King.

_No. Even still, he’s Shiro._ Neko had thought the same, so they were still on the lookout for their friend.

“I found a potential lead,” he said, keeping his voice as calm as possible. Neko stood up, meowing loudly, and Kuroh had to tug on the cat’s arm to get her to sit properly. “Listen, I don’t know what good it will do, but we’re going to need external help. I have an offer, but we need money, and what I make here isn’t enough.” Even though the owner had been kind enough to give Kuroh pay on top of housing and food, it was meager, and nowhere near enough to pay for what they needed.

Neko had a contemplative look on her face, eyebrows scrunched together. “Hm, humans are so weird. Shiro said we needed that money stuff for snacks, too. Ah, but Shiro’s worth a lot more than snacks, so it must take a _whoooole_ lot!” Kuroh supposed it didn’t really matter what means Neko used to reach that conclusion so long as she understood. “So what’re we gonna do, Kuronosuke?”

He could see it by just looking at her; Neko wanted to see Shiro again, but she was worried they wouldn’t be able to do it. “We have three days, starting tomorrow,” he said. “On the third day, we don’t have any choice but to show the money or find another way. _But _we’re not giving up even if we fail. I won’t stop until we see him again.” Kuroh smiled, hoping it was reassuring. “So let’s think about it. Show we’re worthy of being his clansmen.”

Neko’s eyes regained their sparkle. “Right!” she chirped. “Neko will work hard by making sure to eat lots!” As if to show her resolve, Neko devoured her plate within seconds, raising her hand with her voice. “Hey, Myaster! Could I have some more please!”

Unable to hide his soft chuckle, Kuroh turned to his own dinner, clapping his hands together in a small prayer. “_Itadakimasu._”

* * *

Himura Nigei found that coming back to dinner made by Fukune was probably the best pick me up he could ask for. Covered with bruises and aches from getting his ass handed to him by Fushimi was plenty of reason to warrant a pick me up, and he managed to wake up and wander to the dining room to the smell of Fukune’s home cooking.

_I have no words for this other than a blessing._

Dinner with Yggdrasil was a funny thing. Growing up, Nigei had gone through the whole deal of sit-down dinners, right-on-the-dot-seven-PM every night. The Green Clan, on the other hand, took a completely casual approach, a la their king. Their dining room was more like a small café, a few small tables here and there, a buffet set up on one end, and preparations for food really only started once at least three people had complained about being hungry. It was a completely different scenario, but Nigei loved it.

“Hey, Himura, you’re up and running!”

“Pff, Togami’s gonna be pissed she wasn’t the first one to wake up.”

“Guess Fushimi sure is something, huh? To keep a monster like that down.”

“Nigei!” Nigei gave polite nods to his clansmen, but really the person he wanted to talk to was Arita. They were closest in terms of friends, and Nigei worked on filling his plate as his friend came by. “Listen, I’m sorry about that. I’m not really combat ready, so I couldn’t do anything. Man, I’m the worst…”

Nigei shook his head, despite his muscles’ protests. _You’re just going to have to get over me moving like a normal person._ “Dude, it’s okay,” he said, conflicted over just which entre he should chose. Unable to, he picked up a small portion of both. “You came along as communication and support. None of us expected you to hop into combat.”

“Yeah, I know…” Arita sighed, but showed off his own plate, already filled. “Come on, let’s get some food in your stomach. You won’t get better otherwise.”

Nigei had to agree with that. Besides, he wanted to dig into Fukune’s food composed of pure bliss. He scanned the room, finding Fukune seated at the back of the room, Tarashi half asleep and picking at his food. Arita seemed to notice his gaze, and Nigei shook his head. Making Arita sit with Tarashi for Nigei’s own personal feelings was just rude. “Forget it, man,” he said, to his friend’s visible relief. “Let’s just stay by the food. I’m starving.”

They found the closest table. Really, even with just three people missing, the room started to feel a bit empty, but that was probably because there were so few of them. It was part of the reason they were so busy trying to find new members. Not that recruitment was an easy task.

“Man, what are we gonna do about this?” Arita asked, managing to look depressed even as he bit into his share of sukiyaki. His own mouth full, Nigei raised an eyebrow. “I mean, we have a lot to deal with, don’t we? I know Fukune-san and Tarashi-san are acting the same as they always do, but we’re not gonna have much luck if the Red and Blue Clans are getting at each other’s throats like that again.”

Nigei grimaced at the reminder of his own still healing bruises. Fushimi hadn’t been messing around when he took them down. “Yeah, this is gonna suck.” Considering that Yggdrasil’s abilities weren’t as nearly as useful in combat as the other clans’, he wasn’t looking forward to a brawl like what had happened at Ashinaka Gakuen not too long ago. “Still, we’re not useless, you know. Once I’m all good and full, I’m gonna get to work on seeing just what’s going down.”

Arita’s eyes lit up a bit. “You’re gonna hack something? Who are you going after?”

“You make it sound like I’m just going to target one of them.”

“Hoo, damn, Himura, you’re so cool!”

Nigei chuckled a bit, even as he looked away. Arita’s enthusiasm was a bit too much for him sometimes; it was embarrassing to get praised so much in public. “It’s nothing too impressive. As a hacker, I have a long way to go.” No matter how much he learned, he always felt like he was falling behind. “But I’ll put what I can to good use. Just you wait; I’ll bring back some good intel for sure.”

Despite Nigei’s best efforts, Arita was still looking at him like some starstruck idiot. “Like I said: you’re so freaking cool.”

Nigei scowled, even though he didn’t mean it. “Just shut up and eat before I tell Fukune-san you don’t like her cooking.”

“I’m eating; I’m eating!”

* * *

As a dormitory school, Ashinaka Gakuen’s cafeteria was open for all mealtimes, but Kukuri had always enjoyed cooking her own meals. Usually, she’d share with her friends, or get together to make a group hotpot, but she had decided to eat on her own today. The encounter with Fujioka earlier in the day had left her feeling uneasy, and she wanted some time to try and get her thoughts in line.

So, she’d decided to cook.

Changed into her casual clothes of a long-sleeved top and comfortable sweatpants, Kukuri worked on unloading the necessary ingredients from the fridge to the countertop. Thanks to the limited space in her room, she couldn’t store too much, and she’d need to go grocery shopping soon, but she had more than enough to make a simple dinner with leftovers for the next day.

She tried to lose herself in the rhythm of preparation, of washing and chopping the vegetables. She also set up the rice in its cooker, though she had to stop herself from overloading the portion size. She would be the only one that would end up eating this, so she didn’t need to go overboard; even though she knew that, her hands moved almost on instinct to make more.

_I’m doing it again._

Kukuri gritted her teeth and focused on the task at hand. There it was again, that feeling that she was missing something, brought on by her dreams. Even though she knew they were just figments of her imagination, she felt like the people from her dreams should have been there, sharing this space with her. Just thinking about it made her feel unbearably lonely.

Despite her internal struggles, Kukuri managed to successfully make her stir fry and sit down at her small study table in the middle of her room. She almost mechanically moved her chopsticks from bowl to mouth; it wasn’t that the food tasted bad, just that she felt like she lost her appetite.

_Why do I feel so uneasy after talking to Fujioka-san? No, no, it wasn’t Fujioka-san, it was…_

The name from the memorial in the woods came to mind, and Kukuri could feel the throb of a headache start to come on. Sighing, she pulled herself up to get a drink and some painkillers, and she noticed her PDA lit up on the countertop where she’d left it. Sumika had messaged her, asking for tips on their homework, and Kukuri typed out a response. Once she hit send, she didn’t put her PDA down.

_I don’t know why, but I feel like that memorial has something to do with my dreams. I’m probably just imagining it, but…_

By all circumstances, she should just let it go. It wouldn’t do any good to start digging up information when she wasn’t even sure it was relevant. But on the other hand, she _couldn’t_ just let it go, because there was a chance that maybe it was all real.

That maybe she was missing something important.

Her fingers shaking, Kukuri pulled up her web browser and slowly typed in the characters for _Suoh Mikoto._

* * *

Seri had never been a huge fan of riding in taxis, but sometimes you just had to make exceptions. The experience was more mentally trying than usual thanks to the long and frustrating day she’d had, but there wasn’t time to rest. A critical witness in the Strain case she was in charge of tracking had vanished into thin air, and she was running out of leads along with patience.

Besides, where she was going, she couldn’t take a SCEPTER4 vehicle.

The cab finally pulled to a halt, and Seri paid the driver, stepping out of the vehicle without waiting for her change. Though she’d changed out of her uniform, she always felt out of place coming to the HOMRA bar. She was counting on intel that most of the Red Clan was out investigating to come here. Even so, there were risks, especially with what had happened to Suoh Mikoto less than a month ago.

Chasing away the thoughts that were still plaguing her mind, Seri kept a cool expression as she opened the door to the bar. With the sun setting outside, the artificial lighting inside seemed almost too bright for a moment, even though the atmosphere was still relaxed. After giving a quick sweep of the area, it seemed that Kushina Anna wasn’t present, which worked out in her favor.

“Are you just planning on standing in the doorway, Seri-chan?” Izumo asked from behind the counter, not even looking the slightest bit perturbed that the second-in-command of HOMRA’s biggest rival had just walked in. He never did, and yet it surprised Seri every time how he could just act so casual about it. Izumo waved her in and turned around, working on fixing up a drink from the bar. “Just because you didn’t let me know you were coming doesn’t mean I can’t be a good host. What’ll you have?”

Seri shook her head, even as she crossed the floor and sat atop a barstool. “Nothing today. I can’t stay for long.” She didn’t bother to add how Izumo shouldn’t have even let her in the door. She didn’t have as much to do with the fate of the former Red King as Munakata did, yet guilt still twisted at her stomach. Izumo paused mid retrieval of a glass but filled it up with ice anyway. _Honestly,_ Seri thought, but she tried to keep the exasperation out of her voice. “If you’re willing, I’d like to ask you for some information.”

Seri produced her PDA, which projected a holographic image of the missing victim of the Strain attack. Since it came from some security footage, it wasn’t the best quality, but it was easy to make out the woman’s pale green hair and sharp facial features. Izumo finished up Seri’s drink and flawlessly slid it onto the counter before lowering his sunglasses to give the image a thorough look over.

“Should I know this girl?” he asked after a few moments. Disappointment crept up on Seri that she’d miscalculated, but she didn’t let it get to her. There was a reason she’d gotten the ridiculous moniker of “Ice Queen,” and her poker face was part of that. Izumo straightened up, an apologetic smile on his face. “Sorry, Seri-chan, but I don’t recognize her. She’s never come around the bar at the very least.”

“I see.” Seri dispelled the hologram, putting on a faint smile. “I thought you might know something since one of your own decided to investigate the place where she was attacked by a Strain and got into a tussle with one of ours. Considering your current position, it would be odd if you didn’t know something about it, yes?”

She’d intentionally brought up Izumo’s assumed leadership in an attempt to through him off, but Izumo simply shrugged. “Well, I didn’t expect it to turn into a scuffle when I sent those kids out there, but I do happen to know a bit of what you’re talking about. But you see, we have some interest in that, too.” Lowering himself to eye level, Izumo folded his arms and widened his smile. “How about you tell me what the little incident over there was about, and we’ll call it even.”

* * *

Sitting in her room, Hisa took slow bites of her dinner. It, like everything else in the place she’d been taken, was deceptively normal. She had a complete meal of rice, soup, and fish, and they’d even brought her some strawberry Calpico to drink. The liquid inside its bottle was a pale pink not unlike the rest of the décor in her room, fit with enough frills and squishy plush toys to make a pastel paradise. The only thing that seemed out of place was the hole she’d worked into the wall, which connected to the next room over.

The room where Anso was.

In many ways, Anso was just like Hisa was. They were both young, roughly elementary school age. They were also both captives, subject to rough experiments that were beyond painful. It was because of those experiments that she hadn’t heard a word from Anso since that afternoon; he’d come back from his “sessions” completely passed out. He hadn’t even woken up for dinner.

_It’s just boring sitting in here all by myself, though…_

Hisa pouted as she took her next bite of rice. She’d been so excited to have someone else to talk to, and now she wouldn’t even get the chance before being carted off for the evening. Based on the state Anso had come back in, it wouldn’t be a pleasant night, either—not that it ever was. She’d been hoping for a real conversation before she went. No matter how much her captors surrounded her with stuffed toys, it wasn’t the same as real company.

Hisa stared down the wall as she ate, her ears pricked for the slightest noise to let her know her neighbor was awake. But nothing happened as she ate through her entire dinner in silence, and the first sound to enter the room was not from Anso, but from the door opening.

In the door stood a man with purple hair tied back in a ponytail, oval glasses sitting on his nose, and a camera hanging from his neck. Based on what the doctor had said, his name was something like Fujioka. He held up a cup of pudding, along with a plastic spoon. “Looks like you finished your dinner, hime-sama. How about some dessert?”

Hisa didn’t say anything, but she accepted the pudding anyways. Fujioka only chuckled. The pudding was chocolate and overwhelmingly sweet, but it was going to be the best thing she could find in the day. Once she’d all but licked the cup clean, Fujioka chuckled, even snapping a picture of the process before taking Hisa by the hand.

“Such a good girl, hime-sama. Let’s keep that attitude up for Sugawara-chan, shall we?”

Hisa didn’t bother to say anything. It wouldn’t matter. She just nodded her head and followed as the door to her room slammed shut behind them.


	14. Chapter Fourteen: Rehabilitation

**Reconstruction**

By: Aviantei

Chapter Fourteen

Rehabilitation

* * *

Eri looked up to Hitomi, trying to get a read on the girl’s face. For several moments, her expression had been blank, but then she’d spoken the words—ones of recognition of a man, and then Hitomi’s face had twisted into a snarl that looked just as much in pain as it did angry.

Eri’s mouth went dry, even as the nearby waitress worked on cleaning up the spill over their table. Hitomi’s hands were tight fists against the table, but she didn’t sit down, even with the stranger nearby. Yata was scowling, though he at least waited until the worker had rushed off in search of a mop to blow his top. “What the hell are you even talking about?”

Hitomi didn’t look to Yata, her eyes still following someone outside the window, but she did answer, “I’m talking about the person that fucked over my family.” Yata’s mouth fell open, unsure of how to answer. Hitomi clenched her fists tighter, and it was only because Eri knew her habits that she managed to catch Hitomi’s wrist before she could run off. “Eri, please don’t. I can’t just let him go when he’s right there.”

Eri steeled her expression and didn’t let go. Unwilling to let go of Hitomi, she clutched onto Mie-chan with her free hand and let the toy speak. “I know this is hard for you, but you won’t stand a chance.” Not even with her stubbornness. Not even with her capability. “He’s not the only SCEPTER4 member there, and you know they’ll provide backup, even if you justify yourself.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Yata said, attracting the attention of the other patrons in the restaurant. Eri urged Hitomi to sit back down, and Yata followed suit, though the tension didn’t fade from either of their bodies. Even Yata looked serious, his face almost on the level as when they had fought with the SCEPTER4 boy on the rooftop. “You have a connection with the Blues?”

“You’re one to talk,” Hitomi said, sounding like she was about to spit. Yata grimaced but turned his expression back into a glare soon enough. With her free hand, Eri signed Hitomi’s name in scolding. Abashed, the girl looked away and scratched the back of her head. “Yeah, yeah. Look, Misaki-chan, it’s complicated. But all this happened a long time ago, so it’s really not important.”

Yata scoffed. “Don’t give me that shit. If it’s not important, then why did you look like you were gonna tear out of here about to kick ass?” He hit his fist against the table, forceful enough for Eri to feel the vibrations, but with enough restraint not to cause another ruckus. “I dunno if you’ve noticed, but I’ve got a pretty good idea of what it’s like when your family gets fucked over. So don’t think you can pass off some stupid excuse on me and I’ll just believe it.” Hitomi glowered at him, her bangs overshadowing her expression. “You can glare at me all you want, but it doesn’t change a damn thing. So talk.”

“Fuck you.”

“What was—”

Eri knocked her knuckles against the table, frowning at both the teens. Hitomi relented first, and Yata coughed instead of continuing his shout, though the fierce look didn’t vanish from his eyes. Not wanting to use Mie-chan more than necessary, Eri slipped out of her spot and pointed towards the window, indicating for Hitomi to scoot over. Once Eri had arranged herself so Hitomi couldn’t make an escape without causing another mess, Eri released her wrist and began to sign.

_‘I know this is hard for you, but you can’t rush off towards the enemy.’ _Hitomi’s mouth opened, but Eri increased the speed of her signing up a tick, so Hitomi would need to concentrate instead of coming up with a retort. _‘Yata-san is also currently our ally. We can’t afford to lose the support of HOMRA. So calm down before we lose what little lead we have.’_

Hitomi grimaced. “Sorry, Nee-chan.”

_‘Apologize to Yata-san, too.’_

Hitomi let out an audible groan, but she gave in and turned to Yata. “Sorry.” Fidgeting with one of her earrings, Hitomi glanced back out the window. “You kind of hit a sore spot. I didn’t expect to see _him_ around…”

“Yeah, yeah.” While Yata didn’t outright accept the apology, he didn’t argue against it, either, which was fine enough for Eri. With all the stress that had already happened for the day, another argument wouldn’t do them any favors. “I still don’t know who the hell you’re talking about. You have a run-in with the Blues or something?”

Hitomi bit her lip in a rare show of weakness, and Eri waved a hand to catch her sister’s attention before signing. _‘You don’t have to tell him everything, Hitomi-chan. I wouldn’t make you do that. Do you want me to give him an answer for you?’_ Though it had been years, Eri still knew that thinking about back then was still painful for Hitomi, even if she didn’t admit it.

“Nah, I’ll do it, Nee-chan.” Hitomi shook her head and let out a heavy sigh before resting her arm on the table and looking to Yata. “Long story short, when I was a kid, there was a big mess and _that man_—” her fist clenched tight against the table “—was essentially responsible for me losing my parents. I don’t wanna talk about it, okay?”

Yata grimaced and tugged at his beanie. “Sorry,” he said, his tone reflecting Hitomi’s minimal apology from earlier—but Eri could tell it was still sincere. “Look, I’m never against an excuse to kick a Blue’s ass, so if you end up in trouble, I’ll help. Hell, I wanna go pick a fight right now. But like Hayatama said, there’s a lot of them for just us to go against. So we should just sit tight for now and let Uru-dude find our lead.”

Hitomi’s blink of surprise quickly gave way to a smirk (still a fake one, Eri noticed, but not entirely). “Wow, that’s pretty smart of you to think things through like that, Misaki-chan. You feeling okay?”

“Is that anyway to talk to someone who just offered to help you?!”

Though it wouldn’t make much of a sound, Eri pressed a hand to her lips as she laughed. Yata and Hitomi turned to her at the same time, broken out of their argument with matching confused expressions. Eri took a short moment to compose herself and signed, _‘I’m glad that you two are getting so long.’_

“Like hell!”

“What did she just say?”

“None of your damn business, Misaki-chan!”

Seamlessly, their bickering escalated again, and Eri let herself smile for a moment as she watched them—though the tense feeling in her gut at the sight of the blue uniformed SCEPTER4 members rushing around outside the window.

* * *

Nezuto walked through the halls of the hospital, making sure to look as casual as possible. He’d come in without checking in as a guest, but he had a specially modified PDA to handle situations like that. Even when he crossed paths with some of the harried looking SCEPTER4 members, he continued on as planned, and no one even spared him a glance.

Given his unassuming attire, it wasn’t that surprising, and his confident pace kept any hospital staff from thinking he was lost and needed directions. Adjusting his windbreaker, Nezuto followed his instinct, figuring out the best place to go. While we was used to ending up in strange locations because of that, he was still surprised when he exited the stairwell to find a relatively peaceful floor, not a single blue uniform in sight.

He’d been pretty certain SCEPTER4 was there for the same reason Eri and the others were, so he’d been trying to think up some strategy for navigating a nest of them, but it seemed that wasn’t necessary.

_Welp, I learned ages ago that ignoring where I should go is just asking for trouble, so nothing to it!_

_Let’s get to work._

Humming to himself, Nezuto followed his instinct all the way down one of the halls, stopping before a room. He didn’t recognize the name by the door, but the room was where he needed to be, at least for a little bit. Not in front of it, but inside, too. It had been a while since he’d needed to do something so out of nowhere awkward, but Nezuto just hesitated a split second before tapping out a few knocks on the door, gripping onto the handle, and turning it.

“Pardon the intrusion~.”

The room was pretty spacious, holding the one bed though it had room enough for two. The curtains were open wide, letting in the sunshine and showing off a nice balance of buildings and sky. The girl occupying the bed had been taking in the sight, but she turned to the door as Nezuto entered. Adorned in a comfortable looking pair of tangerine orange pajamas, her hair was in a bob cut, the dark locks turning to a dyed blonde partway through. Nezuto got the feeling that the coloring was more from the fact that she’d been in that bed for a while, rather than a change of style.

“Hello?” the girl said—far more of a question than an actual greeting. “Um, I don’t think we’ve met before. Are you looking for a certain room?” She smiled, the expression not even seeming faked—kind of surprising since Nezuto was a total stranger. “I don’t get much chances to get up and look around on my own, but I do know some of the other patients on this floor. I might be able to help you.”

Briefly, Nezuto wondered if _that_ was why his instincts had led him into the room, but that wasn’t right. He could tell he was meant to encounter the girl before him, though the reasons were unclear. He’d stopped hoping for answers to accompany suggested actions a long time ago.

So he smiled back, stepping into the room and closing up the door behind him, just in case someone unsavory managed to walk by and caught a glimpse of him. You never knew with SCEPTER4 members in the building. “Would you believe me if I said that destiny brought me here to meet you?” Sure, it sounded like a cheap pickup line, but he was hoping it would break the tension a bit.

The girl giggled, marking his chance attempt as a success. “Well, I’m not in much of a position to turn down company, so I’ll let it go.” Nezuto sat down in the chair next to the bedside, adjusting the angle so he could talk to the patient face-to-face without having to twist around too much. “But I will let you know that I have a boyfriend already, so no trying to steal me away, alright?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” If he had to guess, the girl was about a decade younger than him anyways—though his face made it difficult for people to guess his age accurately just based on his looks. “Whoever managed to get you as their partner is lucky. So long as you’re happy with him, there won’t be any need to spirit you away.”

“I am happy. He’s the best.” She flushed from happiness, and Nezuto couldn’t help but chuckle. Watching people who were so obviously enamored with someone could be kind of heartwarming. “We’ve been together for about five years now. It’s almost our sixth anniversary!”

“Sounds like a good chance for a date, then. Any chance you get to do something special?”

“I’m not sure yet.” The girl said it so simply, but her casualness buried the faint trace of sadness flickering through her eyes. “I suffered some injuries that gave me some pretty nasty nerve damage, so I don’t know if I can safely go out between surgeries and stuff. And even if I could, I haven’t seen him since I ended up here, so it’s tricky to say if he’ll be back in time for a date.”

Despite himself, Nezuto frowned. “He really hasn’t stopped by at all? I hope he has a good reason for it.” Was the boyfriend some scumbag who’d run off and he was supposed to be with the girl to help her get over some douchebag? Mundane, but it wouldn’t have been the first time his instinct had sent him off on something like that.

The girl noticed Nezuto’s expression, but she didn’t rush to react like someone in an unhealthy relationship would. “Well, if you ask me, he probably hasn’t come by because of my mom. She doesn’t like the fact that I’m together with someone who didn’t go to high school. Like it’s any of her business.” With hands on her hips and a pout on her lips, the girl held her pose for a moment before slipping back into her easygoing smile. “He’s a good boyfriend. He wouldn’t go missing unless he had a reason, so I trust him.”

“Well, since you have such a high opinion of him, I won’t go ahead and protest too much. You look like a young lady who can make the right decisions on your own.” Pleased by the complement, the girl beamed. Nezuto considered the thought that had crossed his mind and, urged on by his unmoving instinct, decided to follow through on it. “If you don’t mind me bragging, though, I’m pretty good at finding things that have gone missing. Maybe I could keep an eye out for him…?”

“Would you?” Oh, forget every other expression she’d given before; the girl’s face lit up with pure enthusiasm, and she leaned forward so fast that Nezuto could see the tick of a wince from straining something she probably wasn’t supposed to. “Even if he can’t come visit me because there’s trouble, it’s okay. But if you could find him and let me know how he’s doing…? Oh, of course, a picture!”

Though he expected the girl to pull out a cellphone, she instead reached over onto the bedside table and pulled out a wallet, popping it open to reveal an accordion reel of photographs. As they spilled out, Nezuto caught several glimpses of the girl with her hair in different styles (usually dyed), along with the common feature of a young man about her age with a nervous but happy smile on his face.

“May I?” Nezuto asked, and the girl proffered the wallet. He let her keep a hold on it but tugged on the chain of pictures to get a better look. Based on their clothes and appearances, the two had known each other for quite a while. Aside from her face taking on a more mature shape, the girl hadn’t changed too much, though her fashion sense always was. The boy beside her fell into that tricky category of “plain but still kinda cute,” with his close cropped dark hair and plain fashion. Sometimes, the smile on his face was nervous, but the adoration in his eyes was beyond obvious.

_Yeah, I don’t see a guy like that running off without a reason. So maybe it’s family issues, or…_

“Is something wrong?” the girl asked, and Nezuto realized he had been frowning. With all the jobs he’d been involved with, he was becoming less strict with maintaining his expressions.

In a snap, he smiled again and shook his head. “No, sorry. I was just thinking it must be hard for you, being here and not able to look for someone you care about when he’s gone missing.” He looked over the pictures one more time, committing the image of the boy to memory, then offered the end of the phot accordion back. “But I come across a lot of people. If I hear or see anything about him, I’ll be sure to let you know, okay?”

As if handling a real person and not just images, the girl worked on folding the line of pictures back into her wallet. “Thank you. I appreciate it.” She gave the most recent photo on top a long look, and Nezuto tried to think of something encouraging to say, but his attention shifted elsewhere as his instinct reformed and redirected.

_You have what you need,_ his instinct told him. _You can move on from this place now. There are other places to be, things to find._

No, it was more urgent than that, Nezuto realized. According to his instinct, he should have already been out the door. Trying not to alert the girl in the hospital anymore than he already had, Nezuto stood up and dipped into a bow. “Well I’ll do my best to bring back something interesting for you, ojou-chan. You can expect some sort of word from me when I do.” If nothing else, Nezuto could find the boy and send word through him.

They exchanged quick farewells, and Nezuto tried not to make it obvious he was making a hasty retreat. According to his instinct, he needed to be out of there two minutes ago—which would have been damn nice to know he had a time limit before heading in. Shoving his hands into his pockets, Nezuto tried to keep his casual gait as he headed towards the stairwell, going over where to find the clues that Eri and the others needed for whatever mess they were getting into—

A large hand landed on his shoulder.

A trill of recognition went through his instinct.

A familiar voice spoke:

“I’m pretty sure you know you’re not supposed to be here, Urumana.”

* * *

The weather alone was enough to make the day gorgeous, between the sunshine and the occasional breeze passing by. The figure standing on the rooftop sucked in a breath, taking a moment to appreciate the scenery of the rooftops, so distant from the hubbub of people below. He didn’t so much as shiver as another gust of winter wind passed by, tossing about his wavy violet hair and long black jacket. In fact, he smiled, anticipating what was about to come.

Looking down on Shizume City General Hospital, Mishakuji Yukari drew his sword.


End file.
